


Inside-Out

by lilithiumwords



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Aged-Up Character(s), Alternate Universe, Angst, Anxiety Attacks, Background Relationships, Best Friends, Chronic Illness, Clubbing, DJs, Depression, Disability, M/M, Minor Character(s), Near Death, Original Character(s), Panic Attacks, Platonic Relationships, Romance, Soul Bond, Soul Songs, Soulmates
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-11-09
Updated: 2015-12-07
Packaged: 2018-04-30 18:33:36
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 22,740
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5174741
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lilithiumwords/pseuds/lilithiumwords
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>With all the books and movies and legends and lore about soul matches, every story always starts with a song.</p><p>Maybe someday Shouyou will meet the person who sings it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Thrum of the beat, the crowd rushing and around him, pounding his fists in the air and screaming, and Shouyou cannot scream loud enough. He cannot control this burning in his chest, the desperation to release everything. He can hardly see the stage but the music still overtakes him, and he knows he will be bruised later, from elbows in his sides and knees knocking against his small body – _but he doesn't care._

He wants this rush. He wants the sweat dripping down his back; he wants to feel numb; he wants nothing but the throbbing bass in his chest. He lives for the music.

The fervor of the crowd pulls him forward, and Shouyou lets the energy take him wherever it wants. Light falls on his face, and he looks up to see the front stage with a massive lit screen and the long mixing table, where the DJ stands, head bowed as one hand holds his large white headphones against his ear.

Shouyou's breath gusts out as he hits the stage, caught by the sight of the stranger. His eyes and hair are muted gold, little curls sticking up beneath heavy headphones that frame a narrow face. He has more rings and earrings and accessories than Shouyou has ever worn in his life. Hands that could lift the moon control the mixing table expertly.

What holds Shouyou captive is the incredible focus on the man's face. Everything else about him screams _apathetic_ , and the man isn't even moving that much, other than the nodding of his head and the tapping of his fingers. His expression, though – the man is completely engrossed in his music, and every time the crowd roars, every time the music does something that shakes Shouyou's soul, the man's thin lips twitch with a small, satisfied smile.

Shouyou can't look away from him.

He dances. For seconds or hours, he can't tell – all he knows is the beat in his spine and the exultation in his hands every time he pumps them into the air. He doesn't leave the stage – always, always watching the DJ when he has not closed his eyes to embrace the glide of notes across his ears.

The music seems to slow to a crawl, rising higher and higher, and yet it doesn't crest, it doesn't reach that peak – and Shouyou can't have that – he needs _more_. He opens his eyes and flings himself against the stage, looking up at the DJ desperately. Golden eyes flash up, and Shouyou inhales as he meets the DJ's cool gaze. His hands grip the edge of the stage. 

_Please,_ he whispers, and the DJ's mouth curls in a wicked grin, before long fingers dance across the table.

“This is how you fucking party.”

The beat drops. Shouyou screams. The night wears on in a rush of color and music, and Shouyou has never felt more alive.

As Shouyou makes his way home afterward, his mind is in such a lull that he hardly realizes that something has changed. The moon is his only company for the walk to the train station; Shouyou smiles dreamily at it, nearly walking off the road twice. The pulse of the bass is still echoing in his ears when he reaches the station entrance and leans heavily against the wall, sweat cooling on his forehead. The full moon winks at him, and Shouyou feels, for a moment, that he is back in that club, jumping to the beat of DJ Tsuki's mix.

The music is gone, though – and yet there is a song now, soft and eerie in the back of his mind, that will never reach his ears, but which Shouyou hears anyway.

His soul song. Someone from that club _sings_ to him – and Shouyou has no idea who it is.

He has never heard a soul song before. Twenty-two years old and he's never met a single match, and Shouyou has never been bothered by its absence before. He once paged through one of his friend's books on soul matches out of boredom, and after reading one chapter in particular, he had decided he never wanted a match at all.

_If unrequited and unwanted, souls may die from not meeting their match. To fall victim in this way is known as soul fading, and it is a terrible consequence._

Shouyou has never forgotten those words. They seep in now from the anxiety-tinged edges of his thoughts, which threaten to spiral out of control. He doesn't realize that he is hyperventilating until his knees hit his chest, and he gasps in sharply and covers his head, trying to force the song out of his head, but it won't _leave_.

The song merely continues, even as Shouyou panics. It should worsen his attack – yet after a moment, the song seems to shift to something more soothing, and slowly, the tension drains out of Shouyou, until he can breathe again without that high, awful wheeze he makes every time he has a panic attack.

After a long while, Shouyou lifts his head and pulls out his phone. He does what he has done in every emergency he has ever suffered. He calls Kenma.

After a few long, tense rings, the line picks up, and Kenma's low voice hums down the line. Typical for Kenma, he hardly sounds tired, and unlike if anyone else had called him at such a time, he does not sound irritated. He sounds fond in a way that only Shouyou can hear, and it relaxes him more. “Hello, Shouyou. It's four thirty-two in the morning.”

“Kenma,” Shouyou says in a small voice. A beat of silence stretches, and then he hears a small rustle and a 'bing' from Kenma pausing his game.

“What is it, Shouyou? Are you alright?” Kenma asks, a tone of worry entering his usually listless voice. Shouyou exhales shakily, and a small laugh falls out with the sigh, tinged with hysteria.

“Kenma, I think I met my soul match.”

Another silence hangs between them. Kenma knows his feelings on soul matches; he has witnessed, on multiple occasions, Shouyou's determined avoidance of any and all books, movies, and even conversations about soul songs.

“Where are you?”

“On the street,” Shouyou says after a moment, peering up at the sign. “Asahigaoka. By the station.”

“Where is your roommate?”

“He went home already. His set ended at one.”

“Alright.” Kenma deliberates for a moment, followed by the clicking of his mouse. Shouyou almost smiles; he can picture Kenma sitting at his computer now, pulling up the Sendai subway webpage. “Can you walk?” The question does make Shouyou smile, now; Kenma notices everything.

“Maybe. I don't want to move yet, though. Kenma...” His voice fails him for a moment, and he can only feel misery, the song gentle and soothing in the back of his mind. A bane on his existence. “Am I gonna die?”

“Of course not, Shouyou,” Kenma says, sharp and quick, as if he can cut through those words with only the force of his concern. “Did the person reject you?”

“No,” Shouyou whispers after a moment. “I don't know who it is. I didn't really meet anyone... I didn't even talk to anybody. I was dancing, and then when I left, I could hear it. It's... quiet.”

Kenma is silent for a moment. “Soul songs usually are, if the person is away from you. Did you dance with anybody?”

Shouyou shakes his head, then realizes Kenma can't see him. He mumbles the response, sinking down further against the wall by the station. He hopes a policeman doesn't notice him; he doesn't want to get in trouble for loitering.

“Well, we'll figure it out. Go into the station and wait for the train. The next one arrives in eight minutes.”

Shouyou mutely obeys, descending into the subway and sliding his pass, keeping the phone pressed to his ear so that he can listen to Kenma's soft breaths, the clicks of his mouse, and the pause music on his game. Anything other than the song in the back of his mind, to which he can't even put a voice. He has no idea who sings to him, and it hurts.

“Sit down, Shouyou, and take a deep breath.”

Good old Kenma. Always knowing what Shouyou needs when he doesn't know himself. He finds a bench near the platform and sinks down, curling up against the bricks, his gaze on the shine of the light on the floor. He makes a low noise to let Kenma know he has done what he was told.

“You're doing very well, Shouyou. I'd like you to listen to me for a few minutes, okay? I know you don't like soul songs. I know how you feel about them.” The topic should be enough to send Shouyou into a panic again; the only thing that anchors him is Kenma's voice, even and dependable. “You need to know, though, that you cannot die from having a soul mate.”

“But what about soul fading?” Shouyou interrupts, his whisper edged with a faint, shrill whine. His heart is hammering, threatening to break open his chest. Kenma makes a soothing sound.

“Soul fading only happens if one or more of the soul match members reject each other,” Kenma says, smooth and careful, well aware that Shouyou is on the brink of breaking down. “Soul matches are about finding balance in the relationship. You might not know this, but people can have more than one match. You also don't need to become romantic with your soul match. You can be platonic, or aromantic, or asexual, or romantic, or sexual – whatever you and your match, or matches in some cases, are comfortable with.”

Kenma's tone slips into that familiar lecturing voice, the one he uses whenever Shouyou or one of his friends has been particularly stupid and needs some serious advice on how to move forward in their lives. Shouyou is kind of relieved by it. It's a little odd to follow Kenma's words at the same time that he listens to the song in the back of his mind, and it's giving him a bit of a headache, but he supposes it will be good practice for later on, if he can manage this.

“Okay,” Shouyou whispers, wanting Kenma to know that he is listening.

Kenma hums in approval. “The important thing is to accept your soul match in some manner. Rejecting them, or being rejected by them, _can_ lead to soul fading, yes. However, this happens rarely, because before that, the soulmates take therapy sessions, as soon as a physician diagnoses the possibility of soul fading. In almost all cases, soul matches can find some sort of balance with each other through therapy before anything major happens. There are other safeguards, too, but they're a bit more complicated.

“Not only that, but soul fading happens in less than 4% of the population, depending on the region and country. Not everyone is as likely to end in tragedy as the movies say, Shouyou.”

Shouyou giggles a little, but his mirth fades quickly. “But... I don't even know who mine is. I just know I can hear a song. What happens then?” He is almost afraid to ask – but he needs to know.

“You cannot die from soul fading if you do not know who your soul match is. A lot of people don't realize the identity of their soul match at first. Most people find their soul matches within two years of first hearing the song, but there are cases where you might wait as long as five or ten years. You know about the famous ones, too, where some people meet their match once and never again... they don't die, either. Not identifying your soul match can cause complications, but nothing so bad as soul fading, just headaches usually... Your physician will deal with that.”

“Okay,” Shouyou says quietly, a little scared of not meeting his soul match again, but the way Kenma talks about it, it doesn't sound so bad if he stays alone. “There were hundreds of people at the event, Kenma. There's no way I can find him again.”

Kenma pauses, and when he speaks again, Shouyou can hear his confused frown. “'Him'?”

 _Him._ How does Shouyou know that? “Him... my soul match. He's...” He frowns to himself, lifting his head to watch the train tracks. “I don't know who he is. How can I know he's a he?”

“Some part of you recognized him,” Kenma mutters in consideration. “Maybe we can try some meditation techniques, to draw out the memory... I should look at Kuro's books. He's asleep right now, otherwise I would ask him. You didn't imbibe anything, correct?”

Shouyou shakes his head. “No, I just danced. You know that feeling when it's really good, all 'gwah' and 'jzoom'...” He trails off at Kenma's disbelieving silence and grins. His head is still hurting, and the soul song is making him anxious, but he will always be amused at Kenma's definite lack of understanding when Shouyou makes funny noises.

“I wouldn't know,” Kenma acknowledges, sounding derisive. Shouyou giggles again. 

He hears the train then and lifts his head, relieved that he can go home now. He stands and walks over to the platform, fidgeting as he sees a few other people standing there, people in business suits who are going to work as Shouyou is going to bed. “Thanks for talking to me, Kenma,” he says softly. “I gotta get on the train now. Talk to you later?”

“I'll send you some resources. Text me when you get home,” Kenma replies before ending the call. Shouyou smiles and pockets the phone. Typical Kenma.

He boards the train and sits down in the corner, opening his phone and pulling up the webpage for the Sendai Top 25 DJs. He pokes around to see if, maybe, there are any feeds from people who went to the event, but all of them are about the DJs they liked, and no one mentions having met their soul match. 

After a while he scrolls through the listings of DJs, trying to remember which sets he liked. The last set had been DJ Tsuki, which had definitely been the best (even better than Kageyama's, but out of loyalty Shouyou will _never_ say that to his roommate's face). He doesn't know exactly when he started hearing his soul song, but it must have been during DJ Tsuki's set, because he had taken a break when Kageyama had finished at one and he hadn't heard it then.

He gives up and shuts the phone, leaning his head against the window and staring out at the passing lights. The throbbing in his head gives a little, easing as Shouyou's shoulders release some of their tension.

He listens to his soul song all the way to his stop.

~

At first Shouyou is fine. For one long, wonderful year, he handles the song in his head alone, and his health has never been better.

Every day, every night, he hears the song. After a while he gets used to the ebb and flow of it; it stays at the same volume, but sometimes it rushes through his head, toppling over his thoughts like a waterfall, and other times it's low-key and sluggish, as if his soul match is bored out of his mind. It's not like he's reading his match's thoughts, but he can tell, sometimes, when his match is upset, or happy, or sad. Mostly his match stays content, and that stolidity grounds Shouyou's rampant excitement more often than not.

Still, Kenma makes him start seeing a physician who specializes in soul health, to Shouyou's dismay, but he dutifully meets Akaizawa-sensei and explains his strange situation.

“That's not so strange, Hinata-san. I'll tell you one that sounds similar, about a girl who was out on the beach with her family. Keep in mind, this was a beach with thousands of visitors. She saw this boy out in the water, and they only ever looked at each other, but they both went home hearing each other's song. They never once spoke to each other, only looked from a distance. Then they kept seeing each other at the beach but didn't realize it for the longest time, and no one figured it out until the girl's cousin noticed the boy jumping in shock ever time she surprised the girl.

“You've got it easier than kids, at least, because they don't understand it, and they're also caught up in their hormones and emotions from being teenagers. You're past all that, yes? So just keep doing what you're doing. There's no rush to finding your soulmate. You don't have to search night and day for him. You'll be drawn together eventually.

“Now, you know that you can sense emotions from the song, to a degree, and it can affect your mood. It can also affect your health, which is why I'd like to meet with you at least once a month, just to talk and run a few tests. Nothing big, it's just to watch levels of certain hormones such as cortisonine, which is the primary hormone that we use to diagnose problems with your soul. How does the first Wednesday of the month sound?”

Once a month, Shouyou dutifully goes to Akaizawa-sensei, who runs the same set of tests and announces that Shouyou has a clean bill of health. For a whole year, Shouyou's tests come back negative. Then, one innocuous Friday in February, Akaisawa-sensei calls him, and the frown in her voice is enough to make Shouyou sit down and listen.

“Hinata-san, I'd like you to come in on Monday for some additional tests. I don't think it's anything major, but your cortisonine levels are a little too high for my liking. Come at nine o'clock, please.”

Monday's tests are inconclusive, and Akaizawa-sensei chalks it up to stress from starting another semester of classes. The visit sticks out in Shouyou's mind, though, because his physician asks him repeatedly if he has had any headaches lately or has felt dehydrated. Shouyou hadn't, that he had thought, but after his appointment, he realizes that it might be true after all, because he wakes up one morning with a killer headache that doesn't go away for three days.

After that, it's a downward slope into something that resembles hell.

Shouyou's appetite fades. His headaches get worse, and they last longer. He stops sleeping at night, only getting by on short naps and rest that lingers on the edge of sleep but never truly falls into unconsciousness. He drinks energy shakes and throws up afterwards because he is constantly nauseous, even though the lack of proper sustenance means his hands can't stop shaking and he's too dizzy to walk sometimes. His moods fluctuate to the point that he almost pushes both Kageyama and Kenma away forever, because he starts ignoring both of them out of strange, irrational anger. In only four weeks, Shouyou changes into another person.

At his next appointment, his cortisonine levels are higher than they've ever been in his life. Akaizawa-sensei gives him some pills and tells him to come back in a week. Instead, Shouyou throws the pills away and stops going to his appointments completely. He stops going to class. He stops going to practice. He stops _everything_ , because he knows what is happening. He knows it without reading the resources online that point to cortisonine spiking unbearably high right before someone dies in a certain way.

The soft song in the back of his mind never falters, but Shouyou starts to hate it, anyway. 

His soul is fading.

He keeps his friends at arm's length, in hopes that if they stop caring for him now, they won't be as hurt when he fades away permanently. Since Kenma and Tetsurou live in Tokyo, it's easy to avoid their texts and calls. Kageyama is a little more difficult, but he works at a club and keeps weird hours, so Shouyou can pretend to be asleep whenever Kageyama comes home and knocks at his door. His other friends were maintained through class and volleyball, and they slip away as easily as Shouyou's control on his life.

The only thing that stays the same is the song in his head.

Kenma is smarter than him, though, and Kageyama far more stubborn. Kageyama corners him before his shift at the club one day, pinning Shouyou to the wall beside the front door with a glare so hot that it scalds Shouyou's fear of being caught.

Shouyou avoids looking at him. If he can get out of this conversation and send Kageyama off to work, he can go back to bed and collapse for a little while. He had only come out of his room to get some water, because he had been shivering even under four blankets.

It had taken him ten minutes just to get to the kitchen.

“Hinata. You didn't eat the lunch I left for you.”

Shouyou stares over Kageyama's shoulder, at the little clock on the wall with a picture of a panda beneath the ticking hands. Kageyama doesn't care about decorations, so he let Shouyou put up all of his favorite posters and ornaments all over the apartment, and Shouyou wonders wildly what Kageyama will do with everything after he dies.

“I, um, I ate out yesterday.”

Kageyama narrows his eyes. “Yamamoto-san said you didn't leave the apartment yesterday, except to offer her husband the food I made.”

Shouyou starts in shock, finally looking up at Kageyama. “You had our neighbors spy on me?!”

Kageyama growls, actually growls, and it sends Shouyou shivering back against the wall. Kageyama's expression shifts to something strange and soft, and after a moment Shouyou realizes it is concern. Kageyama is worried about him. “Yamamoto-san said you've been giving them the lunches every day for weeks now. I had to lie and say that I always make extra. She's coming by later to give us cookies, by the way. What is the deal? Why haven't you been eating?”

Shouyou's mouth goes dry, and he struggles for a moment to come up with the best lie. He hadn't thought Kageyama would notice, because they usually eat their meals separately. Kageyama always leaves him a lunch box for class, but Shouyou stopped eating them when he dropped out of school, and he hadn't wanted Kageyama to notice.

He should have known he couldn't fool his roommate. He's a little amazed his trickery lasted as long as it did.

After a few moments of Shouyou's silence, Kageyama sighs. “Fine, don't tell me. You can tell it to Kozume and Kuroo, then.”

Shouyou's knees buckle. There is a strange buzzing in his ears, drowning out the song and leaving every nerve on fire. “You... you called them?”

“Of course I did, dumbass. Have you looked in a mirror lately? You're skin and bones. I can see your goddamn cheekbones, and it may be spring but even I know that being that pale is wrong. And I found a message on the answering machine the other day from your doctor. She said you haven't visited since March, and that's _two months_. What the hell happened?” Kageyama's fury is beautiful – his roommate has always been gorgeous, in a brutal way that Shouyou could never find attractive – but Shouyou sees none of it.

He can only think, _I have to tell them._

He doesn't get to respond, though, because there is a knock at the door then, a soft sound that is firm and anxious at the same time. Shouyou closes his eyes as Kageyama answers it, knowing without looking that Kenma has arrived.

He hears Kageyama speaking to Kenma and Tetsurou, low and angry, and Tetsurou answering evenly. Soft footsteps pad over to Shouyou, stopping in front of him, and Kenma sucks in a soft breath to see how Shouyou looks.

Like he's dying, probably. Shouyou stopped looking in the mirror weeks ago.

“Shouyou.” The choked horror in Kenma's usually carefully controlled voice breaks him, and Shouyou covers his eyes as a sob catches in his throat. Then warm arms encircle him and pull him close, and Kenma's voice is gentle in his ear. “We're going to help you now. It will be okay.”

~

They go to the hospital. Aware of his friends listening, but unwilling to make them leave, Shouyou lists off his symptoms of the past several months. The nurse writes everything down, her face growing more concerned with every listless description Shouyou utters.

They pump him full of hydrocodone, saline solution, and other drugs that Shouyou forgets the names of in seconds. After a few minutes, his mind goes a little hazy as the pain that sits deep in his bones begins to recede. He hardly notices when he falls asleep, the song crooning softly as the physicians work to stabilize him.

When he wakes up, his friends are waiting in silence, and they call in a nurse immediately. With his nurse comes his physician. Akaizawa-sensei frets over him, eyebrows furrowed as she looks over Shouyou's paperwork. Tetsurou is standing by the window, shamelessly listening as the nurse checks Shouyou's vitals, while Kenma sits quietly by the bed, his eyes on Shouyou's face. Kageyama is in the corner, glaring. None of them look like they have slept; morning light streams through the window, and Shouyou's body feels better than it has in months. They must have given him some very good drugs.

Akaizawa-sensei is furious, but mostly at herself for reasons that Shouyou doesn't quite understand. “I should have noticed! Hinata-san, I am very sorry. Because of my ineptitude, you suffered in this manner.” She bows, and Shouyou can only stare at her, bewildered.

“But it was my choice. 'Cause I'm fading,” he replies softly. Kenma, Tetsurou, and Kageyama remain absolutely silent, but their expressions make Shouyou's heart hurt. Akaizawa-sensei looks very sad for a moment.

“I am very thankful that your friends brought you in when they did. If you had come in tomorrow, even today, we might not have been able to speak like this. Your body was on the verge of shutting down, Hinata-san. For a little while, we almost could not stabilize you, but thankfully you pulled through. After that, we ran several tests through the night. Hinata-san... your soul is not fading.”

Shouyou stares at her, unable to process that. He read the symptoms online. He knows what happened. “But... I _am_ fading. I almost died, right?” He has to ignore Kenma's and Kageyama's flinches.

Akaizawa-sensei sighs, frowning down at the papers. “Your cortisonine levels would indicate that, except for the fact that your angiotensin levels are still the same, and those always rise when someone's soul is actively fading. It's a physical impossibility for your soul to fade without actual rejection from your soulmate. Your body reacted as if your soul was fading, but according to the tests, it has not. 

“I believe this is something called Sadowska's Disorder. It's a soul disorder that arises when the soul is otherwise healthy, but once a match is recognized, the soul realizes it is unbalanced, and the body begins to suffer effects similar to soul fading. It is rare, and I had only heard about it in passing, so when your cortisonine levels began to rise, I didn't think about it, because I was trying to figure out if something had happened to your match that would cause this. Then you stopped coming, and I... I should have followed up with you more often. I'm sorry.”

She shakes her head and picks up a little pamphlet, handing it to Shouyou, who takes it with shaking fingers and spreads it open. Kenma leans over to read with him.

“This has more information about the disorder. It is treatable, with physical therapy, a combination of two drugs, and a certain diet. Once we find your match, then the effects should fade, but for now I want to set you up for weekly appointments at the clinic.

“Unfortunately, with this diagnosis, there are certain restrictions you must follow. If you have a driver's license, it will be taken away. You also will not be allowed on any official sports team... I know you play volleyball, but unfortunately, the restrictions also apply to community teams. There are certain jobs you cannot have. Those are listed in the information packet. Also...”

Shouyou loses focus on her voice. He passes the pamphlet to Kenma and sinks back into the pillow, his gaze shifting to the monitor beside the bed. The song is constant and soft in the back of his mind, perhaps even low with an odd sort of worry – how can someone who has never met him be worried? – and Shouyou hates it more than ever.

If he had never heard this stupid song, this wouldn't have happened.

“No more volleyball, huh,” he whispers.

He had been on the university team, but when he had turned in his formal resignation from class, he had also left the team. Sometimes Shouyou went to the park and played alone, but eventually he had lost strength in his limbs and had given up. Volleyball has always been his favorite thing in the world. He discovered the game with Tetsurou and Kenma, and he met Kageyama because of volleyball. It has always been his dream to be a national player, and he had been working very hard with his team this past year, hoping to be scouted one day...

But he had given it up, and now he definitely couldn't have it back.

Kenma touches his arm then, and Shouyou drags his eyes back to Akaizawa-sensei. She is watching him, her gaze soft with concern, and Shouyou drops his gaze, unable to look at her. He doesn't know how she can still worry for him after he stopped visiting her.

He doesn't know how his friends can still care, after he tried to push them away forever.

“I understand this is a lot to take in,” Akaizawa-sensei says kindly. “For now, I wish to keep you here for a little while, while we stabilize your body and try those prescriptions. Are you up to a small breakfast? I'd like you to try eating, and then the nurse will draw some more blood for this afternoon's tests.”

Shouyou tries. His appetite is still nonexistent, but Kageyama's angry gaze and Kenma's silent terror are enough to coax him into eating some of the bland hospital food. Tetsurou catches Akaizawa-sensei by the door, his spiky hair falling over his eyes as he speaks to her in a low voice. Shouyou watches them for a little while, bemused that Tetsurou, who has been studying soul medicine in college, has never met Shouyou's soul physician before now. He's not even sure Tetsurou knew he was seeing her.

Soon Akaizawa-sensei returns to Shouyou, pushing her glasses up and giving him a small smile.

“Hinata-san, Kuroo-san reminded me of something. I wanted to let you know that you may not be able to play on an official team, but you can still be involved with volleyball. You remember my brother? He plays on the Sendai community team, if you wish to speak with him sometime. I believe they will need a manager soon, because their current manager is about to leave. Perhaps you would like to speak with him in a few days, after we get you back on track to a healthy life.”

Shouyou stares at her, then past her at Tetsurou, who flashes a peace sign. His eyes fill with tears as hope blossoms in his chest, and he hurriedly nods, thanking her tremulously. He stares at his hands as she leaves, the drugs in his system tiring him again.

The nurse leaves as well. For a while, the only sounds Shouyou hears are the beeping of his monitors and the soft, worried song of his match. Kageyama comes to stand at the end of the bed, dark eyes fixed on Shouyou's face. Tetsurou leans back against the wall behind Kenma's chair. Kenma has not lifted his hand from Shouyou's arm.

“I'm sorry,” Shouyou whispers. He doesn't know what else to say.

After a moment, Kageyama is the first to reply, which doesn't surprise Shouyou in the slightest. “You'd better be, dumbass. I didn't invest all this time in you just to have you kick the bucket on me. As soon as you get home,” he snarls, pointing at Shouyou when he looks up, “you're having a full home-cooked meal and a proper night of sleep. I will sit with you and make sure you eat every goddamn bite. You can practice spiking with me whenever you want. And you're going to _tell me_ when you feel upset or ill or... any of this.” He waves his hand at the monitors and bed, and Shouyou can only stare at him.

After a moment, Kagemaya's frustration seems to overwhelm him. “I'm going to get breakfast,” he barks out and hightails it out of there. Shouyou realizes he is blushing, because Kageyama gets upset easily at him, but he has never gotten upset _over_ him before.

“I think I'll join him,” Tetsurou says after a moment, squeezing Kenma's shoulder. “Your roommate is good at lecturing, so I'll spare my own. Just know that we are here for you, Shouyou. No matter what.” The use of his name shakes him; Tetsurou almost always calls him by a nickname. Tetsurou smiles at Shouyou and follows after Kageyama, leaving him alone with Kenma.

After a moment, Kenma shifts nervously, slim fingers sliding down to Shouyou's clenched fist. Slowly, Shouyou releases the tension in his hand, allowing Kenma to entwine their fingers. He can feel his friend shaking, and it _hurts_ , to know that he scared Kenma this much.

“Shouyou,” Kenma says softly, and Shouyou flinches. He dreads the lecture from Kenma the most. Kenma has been his friend since that first moment he reached out and offered his hand to the shy boy in the corner of the playground, and to do this to him...

“Do you want to talk about anything? This must have been hard for you,” Kenma says instead, and Shouyou jerks his head up, unable to digest those words. 

“Aren't you mad at me?”

Kenma meets his eyes, his golden catlike gaze firm, for all that Shouyou can see the red tinging the skin around his eyes. Kenma has been crying? “I am mad, but never at you, Shouyou. This is not your fault. There is no one to blame here... not even your soul match,” he replies, and his eyes flash when Shouyou scowls in response. “I mean it. Don't blame your soul match. It isn't his fault, either.”

“If I hadn't met him, this wouldn't have happened. I'd be fine. We'd be fine,” Shouyou mutters, gripping Kenma's fingers tightly. Kenma's other hand covers both of their hands after a moment, and Shouyou breathes out a sigh, his shoulders dropping. “I... don't blame him, though. I just... I hate this. I hate that I have a match. I never wanted this. I'd rather not hear anything at all.”

Kenma doesn't say anything to that. Instead he squeezes Shouyou's hand, and Shouyou lets him. Sitting quietly in that hospital room, he dreads the months of rehabilitation he faces, the daily drugs he will have to take in order not to feel like he is dying, the dismal state of his life that he will have to rebuild, slowly and carefully, after he thoughtlessly let everything fall to pieces.

If he can find his soul match, then this will all be over, and Shouyou can play volleyball again and be happy. Supposedly, anyway – he doesn't even know who his soul match is, much less if they will actually like each other.

Someone sings to him for a reason, though. Shouyou can only hope that he will meet him someday.

~

“Tsukki, are you alright? You look awful!”

Kei looks up slowly from his phone, blinking against the soreness in his eyes. He sighs at the blatant concern on Tadashi's face as he stands from his small desk by the office door. Suga and Daichi look up from Suga's computer, their conversation faltering as they take in Kei and his sickly appearance.

“I'm fine,” he grits out, hoarse, and the painful clench of his throat forces him to cough. Suga immediately pushes Daichi toward the door.

“Go get him something to drink!” Daichi hurries off to the bar without a word, and Suga comes over to draw Kei to the larger desk in the back, pushing him into the chair that nobody but Suga ever sits in. Suga sits on the edge of the desk, while Tadashi hovers, flustered and worried.

Kei tries to glare at them, but he gratefully takes the handkerchief Suga offers and wipes at his face, sweating slightly as he is. His eyes are dried out and crusty, and even blinking hurts. He wouldn't even be here if he didn't have to pick up his check, but at least he made it out of the apartment.

For a while, he hadn't been sure he would at all.

Daichi returns with a glass of water, plonking it at Kei's elbow, and after a long drink, Kei looks up to find all three of his coworkers staring at him, their eyes shining with concern.

He grimaces. “I'm really fine. Just... tired. I'll go back to bed after I get my check.”

Suga leans forward, resting his hand on Kei's shoulder. His face is soft and kind, his usual grace carrying through the even tone of his voice. “Tsukishima, you obviously aren't fine. Did something happen? Do you need tonight off?”

Kei glares for a moment, then sighs and sinks back into the plush leather, his shoulders dropping. At least here, he feels safe enough to relax, and he can focus on the weak song in the back of his mind much more easily than on the train.

“I'm sorry, Suga-san... I did not mean to inconvenience you like this.” Suga shakes his head, still gently supportive, and Kei takes a deep breath. He can't look up. “Last night, something happened to my soul match.”

Tadashi gasps, covering his mouth, while Suga and Daichi exchange glances. Kei only ever told Tadashi he had a soul match; he never saw the need to tell his bosses, considering he does not know who his match is. He knows the time that he met the person, down to the hour, but he cannot place a face to the soft voice that sings to him, sweet and bright like the warmth of the sun.

Kei drinks some more water, a bit more at ease as the cold soothes his scratchy throat. “I saw a doctor this morning, and he said that my soul match must have been in an accident and nearly died. But he's alive. He's... alive.” He has to repeat it again in his mind, closing his eyes to listen to the tiny song.

For weeks it had grown softer, weaker, and he hadn't noticed until yesterday. He hadn't realized that his soulmate was slipping away until it was too late for him to do anything. He had been at home, thankfully, when it had happened, but just the memory is enough to make him shiver.

The song had suddenly dropped in volume so drastically that, for a few horrible moments, Kei had thought his soul match had died. Then he had caught a few notes of the song, and relief had sent him sinking to the floor, unable to move.

Kei did not sleep. He sat for hours alone in his apartment, listening to his soul song, afraid that if he fell asleep, he would wake up to silence.

“For now, he seems to be stable. I don't know what happened to him.” He glances up at Tadashi, whose freckles stand out against the pallor of his face, wide eyes fixed on Kei. Suga looks horrified, and Daichi only a bit less obvious in his shock. Kei wonders sardonically whether they are more surprised at how much he has said or what he uttered. He hardly speaks about his personal life, let alone something as intimate as this, but his doctor had told him to tell his work, in case something happened and his soulmate took a turn for the worse.

Wordlessly he pulls out a small paper and shows it to Suga; the note from his doctor, excusing Kei from work for as long as needed. Kei isn't sure he can handle his job right now, let alone listen to any kind of music at all, with his song so weak.

Suga takes the note, glances through the message, and hands it off to Daichi without a word. He squeezes Kei's shoulder, his soft voice serious and deep with concern. “Tsukishima, you can take off as much time as you need, okay? Do whatever needs to be done. Can you go to your match? Do you need to take off some time to see him?”

Kei shakes his head, his gaze dropping to the desk. He notices Tadashi's hands trembling, and after a moment Tadashi slides them into his pockets to hide the tremor. “I don't know who he is.”

“Ah.” Suga falls quiet for a moment, then hops off the desk and pats Kei's shoulder. “Whatever you need, Tsukishima, don't be afraid to ask for it. You're more than just my employee; you are also part of our team, and we all care about you. Go home and rest, okay? Do everything your doctor says. Call me next week when you feel better. And if _anything_ happens, call me immediately, okay? You have my cell number, right?”

Kei nods, glancing up at his boss, seeing the same reassurance on Daichi's face. Determination has replaced the terror on Tadashi's face. “Thank you,” he says quietly.

Suga smiles at him, sweet and kind. “I'd feel much better if someone took you home, Tsukishima. Would you mind if someone drove you?”

Tadashi clears his throat. “Suga-san, if it's alright, I can take him home. I'll clock out.”

Kei frowns at them both. “That's really not necessary...”

Daichi speaks up for the first time, and as usual, the serious tone of his deep voice strikes Kei still. “Tsukishima, you look a strong wind away from collapsing on the street. Let us help you with this, at least.”

Kei grudgingly gives in. He has worked at Suga's Club and Restaurant for half a year now, taking the favored Friday and Saturday night DJ spots along with a few weeknights of his choosing, and the job is far better than anything else he has had in the past few years. Suga welcomed him into a family he didn't know he needed, and he is glad for it.

Eventually he sags back into the passenger seat of Tadashi's car, staring hollowly out the window. His childhood friend is silent as he weaves through traffic, and the unusual absence of the radio allows Kei to focus on his soul song. His soulmate seems to be sleeping now; Kei usually cannot tell much about his soulmate's daily activities, but it is usually exuberant and cheerful – or had been, until a few months ago, Kei realizes. Over time it had slowed, losing the energy that matched his soulmate, and Kei wonders what had pushed his soulmate to become so depressed.

Was it something Kei did? When exactly did this start? What could have possibly pushed his soulmate to such a state?

“He almost died,” Kei whispers.

Tadashi breathes in shakily. They had once been close enough, almost, to be lovers; but before anything had happened, everything had changed a year ago. Kei had returned from Sendai with a gentle song in his head that did not belong to Tadashi and would never match the kindness in his best friend. At least Tadashi had accepted his continued friendship, but Kei knows it had hurt, because Tadashi has always loved him.

Tadashi almost says something, but Kei speaks again, cutting off any empty condolences. “He almost died, and I didn't even notice until last night. I think... it started several months ago, but I can't really be sure, because I didn't get hit with the effects until yesterday. I hadn't _noticed_. Weeks and weeks of his song slowly fading, and I hadn't once realized that he was dying.”

He doesn't say anything else, muted grief closing his throat. Tadashi remains silent, and neither speaks again until Tadashi turns into the parking lot beneath Kei's apartment building and finds a spot near the elevator. Even when the engine stops, they do not speak; Kei cannot find the energy to care any longer. He just wants to listen to his soul song.

“Tsukki,” Tadashi whispers, sounding as choked as Kei. His hand grasps for Kei's fingers, and Kei lets him hold hands, drawing strength from the simple connection just as Tadashi does.

Whatever else happens, he won't let go. Not his friend, not his job or life, and not the fragile song that flutters in the back of his mind, as weak as a baby bird, but so more precious than anything else Kei has ever held dear.

“I won't let it happen again. Even if it takes me a lifetime, I'll find him.”


	2. Chapter 2

_Six months later:_

Tokyo is massive. Shouyou has always known this, having grown up on its outskirts, but the sprawling buildings that reach into the sky and take over the horizon surprise him every time he returns. He doesn't know how Kenma and Tetsurou deal with it every day.

A lyrical chime sounds throughout the train, and Shouyou obligingly pulls out his earplugs, turning his attention away from the passing buildings and streets.

“Thank you for using the Tohoku Shinkansen. This is the Hayate Shinkansen line, the Express train bound for Tokyo Station. Please change here for the Chuo Line for Ome...”

After the announcement ends, Shouyou puts the earplugs back in and stares out the window again. It rained at some point when they entered Tohoku Prefecture, and there are still drops of water clinging stubbornly to the glass outside. Shouyou gives a little sigh, his chest rising and falling, but the breath is muffled by the steady silence that he has built outside of his head. Inside is another matter.

There, in the back of his head. His soul song.

It is louder, now.

He noticed it about twenty minutes after he left Sendai, that the song that has both haunted and enraptured him had gained clarity and volume. Not enough to drown out his thoughts, but enough that he could hear more notes to it, more of the underlying tune. More of the moods and emotions his match is feeling.

Kenma had explained once that the distance between soul matches affected each mate's ability to hear the other. Shouyou had understood it at the time, but actually experiencing the change is another story completely.

Hopefully his soulmate lives in Tokyo, if Shouyou is moving closer toward him. He still hasn't met the mysterious owner of his soul song. It's only now, six months after his collapse, that he has been able to leave his hometown at all. He hasn't been able to search, and no one has come looking for him. Sometimes his song grows louder, but it never lasts more than a few days, which Kenma believes is because his soulmate is traveling.

Shouyou hasn't let himself worry, though. Akaizawa-sensei always said not to rush things.

_“It might take time, Hinata-san, but eventually you will meet again. Soul matches are drawn to each other, though science is still unsure how or why. Maybe you're not ready right now. Maybe he's not ready for you. The universe likes to play its tricks, but it won't keep you apart for too long.”_

Not that Shouyou knows what he will even do, if he ever meets him.

His phone buzzes in his pocket, making Shouyou roll his eyes. Undoubtedly his roommate is getting antsy about Shouyou's travel time.

 **From:** Kageyama Tobio  
**Subject:** where are you  
**Message:** _if you don't hurry the fuck up I'm going to throw all of your stupid pictures into the trash_

 **To:** Kageyama Tobio  
**Subject:** ten min to tokyo station  
**Message:** _if you DARE I will hide every single pen in the house, you will never write another grocery list again_

 **From:** Kageyama Tobio  
**Subject:** tell your train to hurry  
**Message:** _I can use my phone_

 **To:** Kageyama Tobio  
**Subject:** I tried but it didn't listen  
**Message:** _okay, name the app you're supposed to use! (￣ω￣)_

 **From:** Kageyama Tobio  
**Subject:** don't be a smartass  
**Message:** _fuck you_

 **To:** Kageyama Tobio  
**Subject:** shouldn't it be 'dumbass'?  
**Message:** _not interested!!!_

 **From:** Kageyama Tobio  
**Subject:** dumbass  
**Message:** _just text me when you change trains so I can meet you at the station. I have an interview later and I don't want to be late. This is why you should have come with me a month ago, so we wouldn't have to deal with this_

 **To:** Kageyama Tobio  
**Subject:** okay bakageyama  
**Message:** _oooh! Gonna dress snazzy? Just don't smile at them~ and it couldn't be helped, my last appointment with Akaizawa-sensei was yesterday after all_

 **From:** Kageyama Tobio  
**Subject:** HURRY UP  
**Message:** _Never mind I will kill you when you get here_

 **To:** Kageyama Tobio  
**Subject:** ♪(^ﾟ▽^*)ﾉ⌒☆  
**Message:** _Have fun paying the rent without me~_

 **From:** Kageyama Tobio  
**Subject:** stop changing the subject  
**Message:** _Whatever._

 **From:** Kageyama Tobio  
**Subject:** never!!!  
**Message:** _You'd cry yourself to sleep without me, admit it_

 **From:** Kageyama Tobio  
**Subject:** DUMBASS  
**Message:** _I'd sleep like a fucking baby, now hurry up_

Shouyou grins to himself, tucking the phone away before he can start another forty minute argument with Tobio about his ability to insult people. It's definitely an amusing conversation, and they have it often, but Shouyou needs to be focused to change trains. He can tease his roommate later.

From today onward, he will be living in Tokyo.

~

_Two weeks later:_

When Kei steps into Club Suga to pick up his paycheck, he pauses at the table by the entrance, where several fliers are strewn haphazardly across the worn wood. Without throbbing music in the background or the press of swaying, sweaty bodies, Club Suga almost seems like a normal restaurant. This early in the day, there isn't even a haze of smoke, which is a relief to Kei's lungs. His allergies have been atrocious this year.

_Tokyo's Hot Upcoming DJs! Join us for Newbie Night! Thursday @ 10 PM at Club Suga!_

“What's this?” Kei murmurs, picking up the flier and spreading it open. “ _Burn Residency_ Runner-Up... the Shadow King, Kageyama?” He scoffs and tosses the flier down, heading into the back office where Tadashi is frowning at his computer. “Good morning.”

“Good morning, Tsukki!” Tadashi chirps, looking up and beaming at him. “Your check is right here. Oh, did you see the new flier out front?”

Kei rolls his eyes, tucking the envelope into his messenger bag. “I saw it. They're actually bringing the King to Newbie Night?”

“Suga-san likes him,” Tadashi offers as an explanation, which really doesn't explain anything. He picks up a copy of the flier to look at the picture of Kageyama Tobio glaring at the viewer. “He's been inviting all sorts of people to Newbie Night. Though I guess Kageyama isn't really a newbie, is he?”

“Being in a contest doesn't make you an expert at it,” Kei mutters, irritated. He has met Kageyama before, and he doesn't like him at all. “Is Suga-san in?”

“No, but he's having a meeting with Daichi-san this afternoon, if you want to come back later.”

“I'll just talk to him this weekend. Thanks, Tadashi.”

“You're welcome, Tsukki!”

Kei nods, lingering in the doorway and glancing back at the flier in Tadashi's hand. “I'll probably drop in tomorrow night. See you later.”

Tadashi waves at Kei as he leaves, and Kei smothers a small smile. He pauses by the table at the door, sighing as he looks upon Kageyama's scowl. Who knows, maybe the King has become more personable since they last met.

Unlikely.

As he waits for the train home, Kei slides on his noise canceling headphones, exhaling as they mute the noise of the city. These particular headphones do not actually play music; instead, they give Kei the silence he needs to concentrate on his soul song. His doctor had recommended them not long after Kei's match had nearly died.

He uses them when he searches for his match.

Sendai, February 13, approximately 2:30 in the morning, where Kei had performed in the MASHUP DJ MIXUP contest. That is where he met the person who sings to him.

Kei has gone back to Sendai several times. His brother lets him stay however long he wants while he searches, but Kei has never been able to find his match. It is difficult for him to follow the song in a particular direction, despite the supposed ease that soulmates usually have. Ever since his soulmate nearly died, it has been quieter, too, to the point that Kei can hardly understand what he could before. He cannot tell his soulmate's moods or general health.

He knows his match lives in Sendai – or used to live in Sendai, at least.

For the past two weeks, his match has been in Tokyo. That, Kei is positive of, because the song is louder, and he can hear it much better. Where in Tokyo, he has no idea – he has been unable to locate his match, because of his deficiency in his ability to discern his song. It was partly why he had not noticed that his soul match was fading – though Kei still blames himself.

Kei's doctor had diagnosed him with Trennor's Syndrome, much to his dismay. 

_Trennor's Syndrome: a type of soul song dissonance where one member of the soul match cannot easily distinguish the mood, distance, direction, or other indicators of one or more of the other matches. This occurs in 40% of the population. With mental exercises, the affected listener can reduce the dissonance to better hear their match._

Even with his degree in music and his abilities as a musician, he had such a problem with his mind? It was an insult to his abilities; thus, Kei had tirelessly performed the exercises necessary perfect his ability to hear his soul song – with little reward.

With a small scowl at his phone, Kei pockets the device and steps onto the train. He hates feeling inept like this. Over and over, his friends and family have said that it will happen in time, that he does not need to rush, but they do not understand how he feels.

His soulmate had nearly died. For scant moments that Kei will remember forever, he had heard no song at all. Kei would do _anything_ to keep that from happening again.

Whoever his soulmate was, whatever they will become to each other, nothing else in the world matters but finding him and keeping him safe.

Even if his soulmate turns out to be the most irritating person Kei has ever met – which should be rather difficult, considering some of his friends.

Kei sneers a little as he recalls his conversation with Tadashi. Now Kageyama of all people has come to Tokyo. An annoyance, but he has little choice but to deal with him, especially if Suga-san decides to hire him in some manner.

Hopefully Kageyama will stay away from him.

~

When Shouyou approaches any bar, he nearly always gets a free drink. Given Tobio's usual jobs, he frequents clubs often enough to the point that this is a standard of his life. It doesn't matter if he tells his suitors that he has a soulmate, or if he wears a fake ring, or if he pretends Tobio is his boyfriend. People hit on him constantly. It never, ever fails.

Club Suga is no exception, to Shouyou's annoyance, and he grimaces as the imposing bartender leans toward him and nods toward a suave-looking man at the end of the bar.

“Compliments of your admirer over there,” the bartender says. Shouyou glances at the small tag on his chest.

“Thanks... captain?” Shouyou questions, raising his eyebrows, and the bartender grins.

“It's Sawamura, but my boss thinks he's being clever. Captain's fine, though.” His keen gaze drops the drink Shouyou hasn't touched. “If you don't want it, I can send it back to him.”

Shouyou sighs and tucks a tip into the jar at the bartender's elbow. “No, I'll take it, since you made it. Thanks, captain.” Captain nods and sidles away to start another drink. Out of the corner of his eye, Shouyou notices the suave-looking man approaching, and he has to stifle another sigh.

Maybe the suave-looking man will be an interesting person, if nothing else.

Five minutes later, Shouyou is deeply regretting his decision to accept anything from Suave-Looking Man. The crowd around the bar has diminished enough that he can claim a stool at the corner, slumping over the counter and sulkily stirring his drink. It's well made, but not to Shouyou's taste; the free drinks never are.

He's not even supposed to drink alcohol, which can interact badly with his medication if he has too much. If Kenma found out about it...

“That bad, huh?” asks Captain, sliding a cork into a tall green bottle. The suave-looking – but not actually suave – man has stomped away already, off to use his terrible pick-up line on someone far drunker than Shouyou.

“They never give up,” Shouyou whines, bending the red straw slowly with his fingernail. He perks up when he gets an idea and looks pathetically up at Captain. “Can I tell you something? I'm not supposed to drink a lot. And this sort of thing _always_ happens, and I always end up drinking too much, and I wonder... if anyone else sends me a drink, can you make it water or soda or something?”

Captain frowns at him, clearly concerned with taking money for an empty drink. “You expect it to happen often?”

Shouyou holds up a finger, and not a minute later, a dark-haired man slides into the chair beside Shouyou, flashing a cocky grin at Captain. “A beer for me, and a drink for this lovely young man here, my good barkeep,” the man says, and Captain looks dumbfounded while Shouyou bursts into laughter.

“You weren't kidding,” Captain mutters, while Dark-Haired Man chats Shouyou up with a pick-up line that is actually worse than Suave-Looking Man's disastrous attempt. Shouyou gets a soda for his trouble, and he flashes a grin at Captain as Dark-Haired Man slinks away.

“It's because I'm short, so they think I'm easy. Thanks, Captain!”

“No problem, kid,” Captains returns with a smile, and Shouyou beams at him. 

Several sodas and a bathroom break later, Shouyou is feeling pretty good about his lot in life. He's being supportive of Tobio _and_ responsible about his body, and it's always nice to have the bartender on his side. He's about to spin around on his chair to look at the stage, where he should be cheering Tobio, when he hears a deep voice that makes the hairs on the back of his neck stand up.

“Daichi-san, a martini, if you please.” Long fingers slide a few bills across the bar, decorated with a single ring inscribed with a crescent moon. Shouyou swallows against his suddenly dry throat, glancing over his shoulder carefully, and he meets eyes the faded gold of a full moon peeking over the horizon.

His breath catches in his throat. For a long beat, he and the stranger stare at each other, before the stranger seems to overcome his surprise.

“Aren't you a little young to be in here?” the man asks in a sneering tone, and Shouyou's fascination subsides at the offending remark. 

Shouyou narrows his eyes. “I'm twenty-four,” he retorts, picking up his soda and slurping it obnoxiously. Beside him the man starts in surprise, which is fair, considering Shouyou looks like he is still in high school. For all he knows, he might be older than the stranger. Still, _rude_.

“You definitely don't look it,” the man replies after a moment. Shouyou spins around on his stool with a snort, tipping his head back to observe him in return. Sizing up the enemy, as it were.

The man is _tall_. He seems familiar, as if Shouyou has met him before, but he cannot place his face. He would remember somebody so tall. Maybe they knew each other in elementary school? 

The man smirks at him, intending to disarm or perhaps irritate him, and Shouyou makes a face at him and spins back to the bar. He can feel the man's cool, dispassionate gaze sliding over him, partly hidden by black-rimmed glasses, and Shouyou shivers in response. He really hopes that he will go away soon. Shouyou doesn't need the attention of someone so arrogant; he already has to deal with Tobio on a daily basis.

It doesn't help that the man is really, really attractive.

“Here you go, Tsukishima.” Captain leaves a tall martini in front of the man. Shouyou has to consciously ignore the clothed arm brushing his elbow as the man reaches for his drink.

“Cheers,” Tsukishima murmurs, and then he is gone, disappearing into the crowd, though when Shouyou cautiously looks back, he can see the blond man towering above the rest of the dancers.

His heart is beating in his ears. Tobio has complained about someone named Tsukishima more than once, some old rival of his from the big DJ contest in Sendai the year before last, who coincidentally also came from Tobio's hometown. Shouyou had hardly listened to Tobio's rant then, because he had been far too preoccupied with meeting his soul match at one of those events around the same time. He got most of the details anyway.

Enough to know that Tsukishima also works at Club Suga, and that Tobio is determined to take his Friday and Saturday night DJ shifts.

With a start, Shouyou remembers the DJ from that fateful event all those months ago: _DJ Tsuki._

He remembers that set very clearly, because it had been so very good, and he had also met his soul match somewhere in the middle of it. Both the music and the man at the turntable had set his blood aflame at the time, and it looks like time hasn't affected the level of DJ Tsuki's attractiveness.

There's really only one thing to do at this point.

“Captain, I'm gonna need a real drink, please.”

~

Suga's is packed when Kei arrives at eleven. Azumane nods to him as he passes the line, earning glares and sighs alike, but Kei has been granted eternal entry into Suga's by the simple joy of working there, and most of the regulars know him by now.

The beat hums through his veins as he approaches. Kei is irritated to realize that he enjoys the mix. He pauses at the edge of the crowd, staring up at Kageyama's tall, shadowy figure, rolling his eyes at the arrogant expression on the man's face. The music is good, even better than what Kageyama used to perform; Kageyama himself has not changed at all, to judge by the glare he sends Kei's way.

Kei sneers back and heads for the bar. The only bit of space available is next to a mop of orange hair that belongs to a person far too short to be of age, but Kei doesn't see a mark on the back of his hand designating him as a minor. He exchanges a glance with Daichi, tilting his head toward the short man, but Daichi only smiles that blasted poker grin.

The shrimp must have charmed him. Damn.

“Daichi-san, a martini, if you please,” he requests, his gaze falling to the mess of orange hair again. The man has slim shoulders but muscular arms, his small figure tidy and trim; he looks athletic. As if sensing Kei's eyes on him, he stiffens and turns around, and a strange thrill runs up his spine to meet the man's eyes. Bright and clear, they are deep enough to appear brown, but when a flash of light from the stage hits the man's face, they are a rich, vivid amber.

His eyes are set in a young-appearing face, but Kei knows looks to be deceiving. The man has an easy grin, his hands and feet constantly shifting with the music. His child-like excitement is annoying.

“Aren't you a little young to be in here?” Kei asks, teasing and low, a little of his derision slipping out. The man's face falls into a moue of annoyance.

“I'm twenty-four,” the man retorts, to Kei's surprise. The same age as him?

“You definitely don't look it,” Kei replies after digesting that piece of information. The man huffs and spins around to size him up, as if he is unsure whether to engage Kei in a battle of wits. 

If he is, he will lose. Kei flashes a small smile, more baring his teeth than anything.

He feels an odd curl of satisfaction when he successfully intimidates the small man. The shiver he notices sets his blood aflame. He wants to tease him a little more, but Daichi appears with his martini.

Perhaps later.

“Cheers,” he nods to Daichi, taking his drink and walking away, feeling eyes on him and knowing without looking that the short man is watching him.

He takes over one of the tables on the balcony that looks over the dance floor. It's strange to be in the club and not standing at the turn table where Kageyama is holding court, especially since the club is thriving.

He gets several looks from men and women alike. With his height and odd hair color, he can't help but draw attention, though tonight the second glances are partly due to his tight clothes, irregular of his usual loose shirts that he wears while mixing. Kei rolls his eyes and pulls out his phone, ignoring the admirers.

His mind is stuck on that orange-haired man. Kei usually goes for taller men; he prefers someone who can match his height. He doesn't like bending down for kisses. He really doesn't like young-looking men, especially ones who look fresh out of high school.

That man, though... something about him attracts Kei. He has not felt drawn to anyone in years, not since before he met his soul match. It's annoying.

He flicks open his emails, deleting the latest one from Kuroo without reading it. Kuroo is probably here somewhere, and the longer Kei can avoid him, the less of a headache he will have at the end of the night. As it is, the song in the back of his mind is louder than usual, drawing his eyebrows together with irritation.

A flash of orange catches his attention, and Kei looks down to see the orange-haired man making his way over to the stage. To Kei's shock, the man nimbly jumps up on stage with Kageyama and leans in to the taller man. They must know each other, because Kageyama doesn't immediately sneer.

Instead he flashes a grin at the dance floor, that has several people sighing. Kei rolls his eyes. “Hinata thinks we should turn it up. What do you say, Tokyo?” Kageyama taunts, and the crowd roars. In response Kageyama cuts the tune and starts up something loud and throbbing. Predictably, the crowd goes wild, and Kei watches 'Hinata' jump off the stage into the dance floor, immediately swallowed up by the crowd.

So Hinata and Kageyama are friends. Lovers?

As Kei tries to find the mop of orange hair again, a heavy arm slides around his shoulders, and a deep, playful voice washes over his ear along with the stench of alcohol.

“Tsuuukkiiiii...”

“Get off,” Kei intones listlessly, while Kuroo laughs, his dark hair sticking up in its usual bedhead state.

“Tsukki! Is that any way to treat your favorite friend?” Kuroo croons, sliding into the chair beside Kei's and leaning back. His physique is as impressive as always, broad shoulders framed by a tight black shirt, and Kei rolls his eyes. Pretty looks aside, Kuroo hasn't had an effect on him in years. Not since he began to hear his soul song, which definitely does not belong to Kuroo.

“We're friends now? That's news to me,” he drawls, smirking when Kuroo pouts at him.

“So mean! And to think, I even brought Bokuto to play with you tonight. I know he's your other favorite!”

“Akaashi-san is my favorite, because out of all of you volleyball morons, he's the only one whose company doesn't make me want to commit murder.” Kei flashes a sweet smile at Kuroo.

Kuroo snorts, unsurprised, and leans forward to swipe part of Kei's martini. “Ugh, what do you see in these, Tsukki?” he groans, shoving the drink back at Kei, who sips it delicately.

“Clearly more than you do. Where is your better half, anyway?”

Kuroo jabs a thumb toward the dance floor. Sure enough, Kei can see Bokuto's spiky hair bouncing along with the beat. “By the way, he's allowed only one drink. If I let him go home drunk again, Akaashi might do terrible things to me.” Kuroo looks disturbed at the very thought, and Kei laughs, finishing off the martini and leaning back in his chair.

“I believe Akaashi-san is the most powerful of us all, if he can scare even you,” he murmurs, laughing when Kuroo scowls at him.

“Come on, Tsukki, party with us! Even if it's the long-hated Kageyama-kun's set,” Kuroo leers, standing and putting his hands on his hips. “We never get to party with you, because you're always working the party!”

“Did you make that one up yourself?” Kei asks politely.

Kuroo grins. “No, Bokuto did. Join us?”

Kei eyes the dance floor, where Bokuto has claimed supremacy. He glimpses of a shock of orange hair, and a thrill runs up his spine when he sees the mysterious Hinata dancing, rather intimately, with one of their regulars. He glances quickly at Kageyama, who is frowning at Hinata but doesn't actually seem angry.

_Not lovers, then._

“Fine, if you insist,” Kei sighs, letting Kuroo drag him downstairs. He has no actual plans for the evening, but if he manages to corner Hinata on the dance floor...

Kei won't let him go, if he can catch him.

~

_It doesn't matter, it doesn't matter,_ Shouyou chants in his head. He has a tall, muscular man pressed up against his back, grinding into him and leaving Shouyou hot all over.

_It doesn't matter._

It definitely doesn't matter that every time he looks up, he notices Tsukishima watching him.

It doesn't matter that Shouyou has imbibed more than enough alcohol to upset his delicate agreement with his medication. He will very much regret this in the morning, and he hopes desperately he can avoid getting in trouble with Tobio.

It doesn't matter that his soulmate is somewhere in this city – it's just a dance, just a distraction. Just to keep himself from losing control and seeking out the one person Tobio will not forgive. He's had enough drinks to make his mind swim, and as his dance partner – Tooru, Shouyou remembers hazily – pulls him backwards, Shouyou purposefully arches against him, determined to get laid sooner rather than later. 

The sooner he can get out of here, the fast he can get away from this mess.

Despite Shouyou's best efforts – and he is very good at it, when he tries – Tooru pulls away soon enough, smiling apologetically and tucking a small card into Shouyou's pocket. “Sorry, love, my ride's been glaring at me for half an hour now. Give me a call later, yeah?” To Shouyou's dismay, he disappears into the crowd, and Shouyou sulkily wonders if it was Tobio and not Tooru's friend glaring at him.

Shouyou dances alone for a little while, trying to lose himself in the music, but he just can't get there fast enough. Finally he gives up and squeezes through the crowd to the stage. “Yamayama-kun! Play that one with the _jzoom_ and the _bwah_!” he shouts over the crowd, and Tobio flashes him an irritated glare.

“Speak Japanese, moron,” Tobio snipes back. Shouyou can't hear him, but he knows what Tobio means well enough. A few moments later, Shouyou's request starts up, and Shouyou beams at Tobio before disappearing back into the press of bodies.

Earlier he'd seen a tall man with spiked up hair as if he slept the wrong way, and Shouyou might be able to reel him in if he tries hard enough. He always did like the bad types; though for all Shouyou knows, the man might be a complete pushover.

Unfortunately, when he reaches the spiky-haired man, he realizes one very important thing.

_He knows the man._

“Geh,” Shouyou chokes, staring in shock up at Kuroo Tetsurou, who blinks down at him.

“What's that reaction for? Wait a minute – is that you, _chibi-chan_?” Tetsurou exclaims, delighted, and Shouyou tries immediately to run. Tetsurou stops him with a muscular arm around his neck, forcing a high pitched whine out of Shouyou's throat.

“Nooo, I don't want to talk to you at all!” Shouyou groans, tugging futilely as Tetsurou drags him to the edge of the dance floor, where another man with hair even spikier than Tetsurou's is talking to Tsukishima, of all people, drinks in hand. “Let me go! I'm telling Kenma you groped me!”

“I've done it before, so he wouldn't care,” Tetsurou replies flippantly, pushing Shouyou in front of him and presenting him to the two men, gripping Shouyou's shoulders tightly when he tries to tug himself away. Tsukishima's cool gaze lands on Shouyou, who tries his best to blend into Tetsurou's shirt. It doesn't seem to work very well. “Bokuto! Tsukki! Look at who I found!”

Bokuto, a tall man with muscular arms and amber eyes, fixates on Shouyou with interest. He seems familiar, but Shouyou can't remember where he might have met him. “Who's this, Kuroo?”

“This is _chibi-chan_ , my and Kenma's friend! I told you about him the other day, remember? I've known him since we were kids. He lives in Sendai, which... reminds me, _chibi-chan_ , why are you in Tokyo? I thought you weren't moving until next week.”

“I moved early,” Shouyou replies moodily, leaning back into Tetsurou's chest and avoiding Tsukishima's keen stare. “Didn't Kenma tell you I was already here?” He doesn't care how snide his voice is, wanting to irritate Tetsurou, but the tall man only smirks, mussing his hair and pushing him closer to the table that Bokuto and Tsukishima have claimed. 

“I must have missed that conversation. How interesting, that you're here of all places,” Tetsurou purrs, not even reacting when Shouyou digs an elbow backwards.

“Right! Nice to meet you, _chibi-chan_!” Bokuto says, sharing a grin with Tetsurou when Shouyou bristles.

“My name's –”

“ _Chibi-chan_ ,” Tetsurou finishes for him, and Shouyou throws his hands in the air, fed up and irritated – and it doesn't help that Tsukishima has _not stopped staring at him._

“Why are you even here! Did Kenma tell you about Tobio's show? God, you're such a stalker, Tetsu,” Shouyou moans, slumping against the table. His elbow knocks against Tsukishima's long arm, and he hastily pulls it back. “I need a drink. Can I have a drink? I need to be drunk to deal with you.”

“It's only stalking if they catch you,” Tetsurou quips with a smirk, rubbing Shouyou's head again. Shouyou rolls his eyes, while Bokuto perks up at the mention of drinks.

“I'll get you a drink! What do you want, _chibi-chan_? Beer? Something mixed?” Bokuto beams.

Shouyou looks up at Bokuto in adoration. “You're my new favorite. Can I have a vodka sunrise? Here, let me pay you.” He digs into his pocket, but Bokuto only grins and pulls out Tetsurou's wallet, a ratty old thing with a patch in the shape of a smirking black cat – something he and Kenma had picked out one summer years ago.

“Courtesy of your childhood friend,” Bokuto sings, dancing back when Tetsurou reaches for him.

“Hey, you're not allowed more alcohol,” Tetsurou protests, but Bokuto has already vanished into the crowd.

“Shouldn't you be worried more about your wallet?” Tsukishima mutters, his smooth voice drawing Shouyou's attention. Shouyou carefully glances up at him, breathing out a bit to see that Tsukishima isn't looking at him. Almost immediately, Tsukishima's golden eyes swing back to him, and Shouyou quickly looks away, flustered and uncomfortable.

“So hot,” he whines instead, shoving at Tetsurou's heavy arm. “Get off me, Tetsu.”

“Nah,” Tetsurou sings, casting a smirk at Tsukishima who rolls his eyes. “Tell me, how did you find out about Suga's place, _chibi-chan_?”

“How do you think?” Shouyou sighs, waving a hand at the stage. “His majesty himself, also known as my roommate. Seeing as how I've been living with him for four years now, you shouldn't be surprised, Tetsu.”

“Ah, I'd forgotten that Tobio-chan is also a DJ,” Tetsurou says, his voice wavering oddly, and Shouyou glances back at him with a frown. He realizes the reason for Tetsurou's sheepishness a moment later when Tsukishima leans forward and fixes a glare on Tetsurou. Shouyou shivers, pressing back against Tetsurou's chest again, unnerved even though Tsukishima isn't even looking at him.

“You've known Kageyama for a while. And you didn't tell me?”

“Ahaha, where is Bokuto with those drinks?” And like magic, Shouyou is free, as Tetsurou vanishes into the crowd to escape Tsukishima's hard stare. 

After a moment Tsukishima sighs. “Idiot.” 

Shouyou almost reacts, then realizes Tsukishima doesn't even know him and wouldn't be calling him names like his friends would.

He can feel Tsukishima staring at him again. His gaze scorches Shouyou's skin like a hot wind, leaving him light-headed. He has a small headache, which is likely from the alcohol, but perhaps also from the combination of heavy techno and the eerie lilt of his soul song, louder than it has ever been. His stomach gurgles in a small protest, but Shouyou ignores it, taking a deep breath to steady himself. He really shouldn't have drunk so much already.

Too late now.

He glances up at Tsukishima apprehensively. Even though Tsukishima is still staring at him, Shouyou doesn't shy away for once; he drinks in his fill of long lashes and short blond curls, the small smirk that seems to curl naturally at the corner of Tsukishima's mouth, the angles of his cheek bones.

It doesn't hurt to look, after all.

~

“So you're the King's roommate?” Kei asks, leaning forward to perch his chin on his hand, focused solely on Hinata. Hinata has finally dared to look at him.

“Yeah,” Hinata says after a moment. He fidgets constantly, hips shifting slightly in time with the beat, but his fingernails scrape against the glass tabletop and he keeps shifting his weight. Kei wonders why he is so nervous; he seems louder than life and sure of himself, at least when he is handling Kuroo.

Kei likes the sound of his voice. He wishes Hinata would speak more.

“So you lived in Sendai before? What made you move to Tokyo?”

Hinata seems to deflate, some shadow falling across his bright eyes. “Change of scenery,” he replies flippantly, looking back at the stage.

Kei watches him curiously for a moment before following his gaze. He raises an eyebrow to see Kageyama glaring at them and gives the King a small, rude salute in response. The crowd may miss the mistake the King makes, but Kei doesn't, and it fills him with perverse glee.

“You probably shouldn't piss him off,” Hinata says, glancing over his shoulder at Kei. His humor has faded into something cold and distant, and Kei stills.

After a moment, he manages to swallow the tiny shiver of intimidation Hinata's stare caused. “Oh? Is the big, bad King going to come after me if I upset him?”

Hinata rolls his eyes. “Tobio's not that petty. And he's not the 'King,' he's the Shadow King, okay? I mean, I figured you guys wouldn't get along, but this is kind of ridiculous, Tsukishima-san.”

Kei lets a slow smile spread across his mouth, irritated despite his better wishes. “The King and I have a history, so it can't be helped. However... it seems you know my name, but I don't know yours, other than _chibi-chan_.”

At the nickname, Hinata fixes a dark glare on him, before huffing and pulling himself up into one of the chairs. “It's Hinata Shouyou. Just Hinata's fine, though. I gotta say, it's really weird that you know Tetsu, too.”

Kei rolls his shoulders back in a shrug. His gaze drops a bit to admire the line of Hinata's neck, as the change in angle lets him see past his shirt collar. “Kuroo-san is on the same community team as one of my friends, and we met at one of the games. Inevitably, he decided to annoy me on a semi-regular basis.”

Unexpectedly Hinata laughs at that, perking up visibly. “That sounds like Tetsu. So your friend plays volleyball? What position does he play? Do you play?” His excitement is tangible; he must really love volleyball, something Kei does not understand.

“He plays middle blocker. I did in high school, but I stopped when I got to college. My friend continued playing, though.”

“Middle blocker, huh? That brings back memories,” Hinata says, spinning his chair back and forth, his gaze shifting to the dancing crowd. “I'll probably meet your friend soon, then. Tetsu invited me to become a manager for his team.” For a brief moment, Hinata looks strangely sad, but the expression vanishes as quickly as the flash of stage light on his face. Kei wonders if he imagined it.

Kei blinks in surprise. Tadashi doesn't mention his volleyball team often, knowing Kei's thoughts on the matter, but he had been chattering about some new team members the other day. “I thought they were getting two new members, not a manager.”

Hinata looks up at him, blinking. “Oh, yeah, Tobio joined as a player. I'll just be a manager, though.” He smiles, and there it is again – that strangely bothersome sadness. It makes something in Kei ache for a moment, and he opens his mouth to ask why Hinata is not also playing, if he likes volleyball so much. Even with that height, he could be libero, or perhaps --

“Delivery! One extra dry martini for Tsukki, one light hipster beer for Bokuto, a real beer for myself, and a water for _chibi-chan,_ ” announces Kuroo, before setting several drinks on the table and throwing his arm over Hinata's shoulders, Bokuto leaning against the table heavily a moment later with a sulky frown. Kei shuts his mouth, irritated, while Hinata starts in surprise.

“Tetsu! What do you mean, water? I wanted alcohol,” he whines, his voice prickling at Kei's nerves.

Kuroo musses Hinata's hair with a stern frown. “You can't fool me, _chibi-chan,_ I know all about how you're not supposed to be drinking. Just like Bokuto, even though he tricked me and got one of his nasty beers anyway.”

Bokuto gives a great sigh, as if Kuroo has offended him deeply. “Says the person drinking streamlined sludge! Sorry, _chibi-chan,_ Kuroo wouldn't let me bring you anything.” Bokuto looks rather sorry, too, enough that Hinata's scowl fades into a pout.

With a sigh that equals Bokuto's efforts, Hinata picks up the water to drink, and Kei chooses to focus on his own glass. “It's alright, Bokuto-san. I should have known. What did you get, anyway?” Hinata asks, leaning back into Kuroo's arm. 

Kei remains quiet as Bokuto excitedly starts a detailed description of his rare and unorthodox beer, which is a perfect opening for Kuroo to launch a verbal assault against his personal taste in drinks. Kei has heard this argument many, many times before, and he rolls his eyes. His attention falls to Hinata, resting comfortably against Kuroo's side, which is oddly irritating. Hinata glances at him briefly, rolls his eyes in Kuroo's direction, and Kei's mouth softens slightly with a smile.

When Kei looks closer, he realizes that Hinata looks faintly pale, sweat beading at his brow, even though he's been still for several minutes. 

How mysterious – and irritating. There are many things Kei does not like, but perhaps the worst is not knowing, and there are many things about Hinata that Kei does not know. 

It is interesting, though, that Hinata will be spending time with the team. Perhaps Kei will have to go to one of their games in the future. Even if Kageyama has also joined the team.

Ah, it really is irritating, to be so focused on one person after meeting him only once. As he watches Hinata laugh at one of Bokuto's jokes, Kei finds himself scowling, and he has to wash the expression away before either of his friends notices.

Tanaka's voice comes over the intercom as a song ends, catching Kei's attention. “That was the Shadow King, who played in the world-wide _Burn Residency_ contest! Now, let's give it up for our next newbie!”

“Tobio's done,” Hinata mutters, twisting around to look over Kuroo's shoulder. “And... here he comes.”

Kei watches blankly as Kageyama himself stomps up to their table, sweating and glaring, mostly at Hinata who flashes him a grin. Kageyama grumbles and grabs Hinata's drink, chugging it back, which makes Kei's lip curl.

“Come on, we're leaving,” Kageyama says to Hinata, who sticks his tongue out but obligingly pushes Kuroo's arm off and hops off his chair.

“You don't need to stay for later?”

Kageyama shakes his head. “No, Sugawara-san told me to come by in the morning. I'm hungry. Let's go eat.” He glances at the table, and his face immediately settles into a glare at seeing Kei. “Tsukishima,” he grits out.

Kei smiles and waves his fingers. “It's been a while, your majesty.”

“Don't call me that,” Kageyama snaps, then finally notices the other occupants of the table. “Oh... hi, Kuroo-san, Bokuto-san.”

“Sup, Kageyama!” Bokuto grins.

“Hello, Tobio-chan,” Kuroo says with a smile, taking Hinata's chair. “Nice set tonight. We'll see you tomorrow at practice, yeah?”

Kageyama nods, suddenly flustered to Kei's annoyance, and tugs on Hinata's arm. Hinata turns and waves at the three, offering a big smile. “It was nice to meet you, Bokuto-san! And you too, Tsukishima-san,” he adds after a moment, meeting Kei's eyes briefly. Kei holds his stare for a moment, before giving a slight nod, his lips twitching upward. Hinata seems to sigh, shifting his stare to Kuroo. “Text me later, okay?

Hinata turns away, drawn by Kageyama, and as the crowd swallows them up, Kei hears Kageyama's low voice ask, “You alright? You look pale.”

“I'm fine, Tobio...”

How very irritating. Kei watches the orange mop of hair bob through the crowd behind Kageyama's tall figure, until the two disappear out the front door. Then he picks up his drink, hardly tasting it as he considers his reactions to Hinata Shouyou.

“Interested in my dear childhood friend?” Kuroo leers around his beer.

Kei glances up with a glare. “Hardly. Now, Kuroo-san, when were you going to tell me about your long and detailed history with Kageyama?” he purrs, settling into a stare-off with Kuroo, while Bokuto starts laughing.

He does not need this nonsense, too, on top of trying to find his soul match.

~

Shouyou ends up on his knees in front of a toilet before they even make it home. Tobio's hand rubs his back until the heaves stop, and Shouyou sags backwards against him, catching his breath. He turns his head to spit out the sour taste, and Tobio sighs behind him.

“How much did you drink?” Tobio asks quietly.

Shouyou can't answer. He had barely held it together with Tetsurou, Tsukishima, and Bokuto, but leaving the club, he had felt better, enough that they ridden the train home in relative peace. That is, until they had neared a late-night restaurant, and the small whiff of food had sent Shouyou running for a bathroom.

Tobio mutters something that sounds a lot like _idiot_ before gently tugging Shouyou up. He makes Shouyou wait outside while he buys a few items in the convenience store, and the cool December air helps alleviate some of the feverish heat rising from his skin. When Tobio returns, he pushes a bottle of water into Shouyou's hands and glares at him until Shouyou drains half the bottle.

“I didn't mean to,” Shouyou mumbles, as they make their way down the street. “I just got nervous, I guess.”

Tobio frowns at him. “What made you nervous? It was just a regular set.”

The moon is shining on them, and Shouyou lifts his bottle of water, watching the moonlight glimmer through the condensation. He presses the cool plastic to his forehead, hoping to feel less woozy. “Tsukishima kept watching me... it made me nervous. He kept staring...”

“Tsukishima?” Tobio repeats quietly. Shouyou hardly notices how unsettled he sounds; his attention is back in that club, focused on Tsukishima's low voice and sly, taunting words. A man with a warped personality, someone whom Shouyou should hate on instinct given his attitude toward Tobio – yet he is captivated.

Past his headache and the unsettled roiling in his gut, his song sings louder than ever.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In previous chapters, one of the hormones mentioned was cortisone. This has been changed to cortisonine.

On the other side of the waiting room sits an old man who repetitively taps his cane against the wall, seemingly unaware that he is slowly driving Shouyou insane. With each dull thud, Shouyou’s headache gets steadily worse, and already he wants to go home and collapse. He hasn’t slept well ever since he came to Tokyo, but it’s been worse this week because his song has been so loud that it sometimes deafens his dreams.

After his appointment, he can go home and rest, at least. His part-time job doesn’t start until tomorrow, and both Tobio and their other roommate will be gone for the rest of the day. Shouyou looks forward to his cool pillow and the sweet darkness of oblivion.

Provided his new doctor doesn’t keep him here until Tobio gets home -- at three in the morning.

"Hinata-san?"

"Here!" Shouyou jumps up, relieved to leave the uncomfortable plastic chair and the obnoxious old man behind. The nurse leads him to a small, cramped room, directing him to sit on another plastic chair with a smile. Shouyou sits through the familiar routine of holding out his arm while the nurse writes down his vitals and withdraws a good amount of blood, before leaving him alone.

"Watanabe-sensei will be with you in a few minutes, Hinata-san."

Shouyou thanks him distractedly, rubbing his unsettled stomach with a sigh. He still isn’t sure he likes Watanabe-sensei, but the man is supposedly an expert of soul medicine.

His therapy with Akaizawa-sensei had lasted six months before she had admitted that she had reached her limit on her ability to help him.

No matter what medication he takes -- and he has even tried a few experimental drugs, at Akaizawa-sensei’s advice -- his health continues to fail him. He has constant gastroenteritis now. Migraines, fatigue, insomnia, and sometimes trembling in his hands and limbs, not to mention his anxiety attacks. He’s lost weight. He cannot work out or run around as he pleases anymore. Volleyball, or any sort of stamina-driven physical activity, is out of the question. 

If they resolve one symptom, then another one appears in its place. Shouyou hasn’t felt truly _healthy_ in far too long, and every day his body hurts a little more, and he grows a little more depressed. His body keeps trying to die, and Shouyou is doing everything to stop it from happening, but the medications he takes now only address the worst of his symptoms. They’ve only kept him alive, instead of curing what ails him.

Supposedly, his soulmate will cure him, but even Shouyou doubts that.

_"I’ve worked with patients for twenty years, and I’ve never seen a case like yours, Hinata-san. I suspect that even when you find your match, you will be in therapy for quite some time, unless we can find something that truly works. Unfortunately, I don’t have access to the foremost research on your disorder._

_"Sadowska’s Disorder is relatively unknown in my field, but I happen to have a colleague in Tokyo who has firsthand experience with it. His name is Watanabe Misashi, and he is the most affluent doctor in soul medicine. I believe he will be able to help you more than I can."_

Both Tetsurou, who is studying at the nearby university in soul medicine, and Kenma, who has read all of Tetsurou’s books, swear by Watanabe’s research. At their gentle urging, Shouyou finally agreed to move back to Tokyo, where Tobio had already been job hunting. There was nothing left for him in Sendai, especially if his soul match lived in or near Tokyo.

Watanabe-sensei has met with him a few times now, mostly for introductions, but also to draw multiple vials of blood and ask Shouyou all kinds of questions about his medical history, experiences with his song, and general health of the past two years, as if he hadn’t read Shouyou’s comprehensive file back to back after Akaizawa-sensei sent the records to him. 

Shouyou knows he did, because he sat with Watanabe-sensei for three hours going through the blasted thing. He had never hated medical terminology more than during those appointments; Watanabe-sensei seems to enjoy lecturing people even as he attempts to heal them. Shouyou heard the phrase "we should inject your cardiovascular system with cortisonine-resistant antibodies!" far too many times for his liking.

"Ah, Hinata-kun, I’m glad you could join me!" Watanabe-sensei strides into the room, his no-nonsense tone quivering beneath his great, greying beard. Shouyou opens his mouth to greet him, but unsurprisingly, Watanabe-sensei speaks right over him.

"Now, I see your blood pressure is a bit high for my liking, not to mention these headaches you told the nurse about. Have you observed any major changes since we last met? You told me last time you thought your match was in Tokyo, but he may be in another city further south --"

"Actually," Shouyou interrupts as gently as he can, "the song has been very loud this past weekend. It’s never been so loud before… and I can hear more of it. More depth, I guess? I’ve been trying to figure out what he’s feeling from it, and I’ve heard a couple things, like when he’s irritated. He’s kind of hard to read..."

"Interesting, very interesting," Watanabe-sensei observes, stroking his mustache. "Would you say that the soul resonance is more potent, then? Are you able to discern phenomena such as emotions or state of mind?"

Shouyou resists rolling his eyes, but just barely. "Yeah, something like that. The loudness means I’m close to him, right?"

Watanabe-sensei puffs up, his voice taking a lecturing tone similar to Kenma, but far more irritating to Shouyou. "Yes, the level of volume, in most cases, directly corresponds with the distance between two matches, allowing for the two parties to discern emotions, distance, and sometimes even thought processes and actions of their partner. This can be affected negatively by soul dissonance disorders such as Trennor’s Syndrome, but therapy and close contact with one’s soul match can reduce the…"

Shouyou nods along, letting Watanabe-sensei ramble. The information is interesting and useful, even though he has read most of it before. Watanabe-sensei certainly is an expert, as Akaizawa-sensei stated; however, his intense desire to relay his knowledge in a textbook-like manner of speech bores Shouyou to tears, and he can barely follow along sometimes. He never did like studying.

"...As I thought, Hinata-kun, we should inject your cardiovascular system with cortisonine-resistant antibodies so that we may further study the effects of the Dramitol series of medications that should, if I am correct, reduce your physical deficiencies caused by Sadowska’s Disorder as well as allow you to examine the latest changes in your song with greater detail…"

Shouyou groans and covers his face, while Watanabe-sensei prattles on, oblivious.

~

"Hinata-san! Take your break!" calls his coworker, and Shouyou sighs in relief, ducking into the back of the store to grab his coat before heading outside to get a breath of cool, fresh air. Working a shop front can be rather boring, and he's had a headache for a while now from learning about the items they sell and his duties, but a job is better than no job. With his disorder, Shouyou doesn’t have a lot of choice in the matter. He’s not allowed to do heavy lifting, and he is terrible at cooking, not to mention he never finished college. Nobody wants to hire a dropout, but somehow Tobio had found him this job listing, and miraculously the owner had hired him.

He just hopes he never has to disclose his medical history. Nobody hires people who suffer from Sadowska’s; they treat it like soul fading is contagious, which Shouyou knows is ridiculous. He’s lost seven jobs in the past six months because someone found out about his disorder and promptly fired him, with some inane excuse about how Shouyou broke something or was rude to a customer -- which could not be further from the truth. Shouyou knows better.

Outside, the morning sun has been obscured by thick grey clouds, and Shouyou shivers as the wind gusts across the alleyway. He flips open his phone and blinks to see a missed call from Watanabe-sensei’s office. His heart sinks a little; a call only two days after his appointment usually means bad test results. With trepidation he taps on the number, holding the phone to his ear as it rings.

"Watanabe-sensei’s office, how may I help you?"

"Yes, this is Hinata Shouyou. I missed a call from you earlier."

"Ah, Hinata-san, one moment, please." He waits, shivering a little in the wintry air, until he hears Watanabe-sensei’s deep voice.

"Hinata-kun! Good, good, I’m glad you called back! I was looking over your test results this morning, and I found them to be a bit peculiar compared to last week’s. The cortisonine levels..." Shouyou dazes out a little as Watanabe-sensei goes into the hormones that are concerning him right now, rolling his eyes and hoping his boss doesn’t get mad if his break goes on too long.

He interrupts very carefully. "Watanabe-sensei, I’m at work right now. Do I need to come in later for more tests?"

"Not at all, my boy. Did you not hear me? Based on your cortisonine levels, paired with the information you gave me during our session on Monday, I have reason to believe that you met your soul match recently. You said your soul song was louder ever since this past weekend. Did you go anywhere in particular beforehand? Is there any person that stands out in your mind? Please, do not leave out any information, Hinata-kun."

Shouyou pulls his phone away from his ear, frowns at it, then moves it back, wondering if he heard incorrectly. His head is starting to hurt, so he might be imagining things. "You’re... saying I met him? Again? But I haven’t gone anywhere, except to work, and..." He trails off, realizing he did go somewhere special. "The club where Tobio works... um, my roommate, Kageyama Tobio. I went there on Thursday. Don’t worry, I didn’t drink too much!" he lies, blushing a little. "I just danced for a while."

Watanabe-sensei tone shifts to something a little more judgmental, but Shouyou ignores that. "A club, eh? I suppose that is the usual hangout for kids these days. Not to mention the atmosphere would hinder your ability to discern changes in your song, unless touching is involved." He pauses as another voice that Shouyou cannot understand speaks, then sighs into the receiver. "Hinata-kun, I have another appointment I must keep. Think about what happened last week. Did you meet someone? I do not need specifics, mind! But do you remember anyone in particular, that affected you in some way? More so than the usual pretty face? We can discuss it at your next appointment. I must go now, I’m afraid."

Shouyou nods absentmindedly, frowning to realize that Watanabe-sensei has given him homework. Akaizawa-sensei used to do that, too. "Thank you, Watanabe-sensei." He waits until Watanabe-sensei hangs up, slowly closing the phone.

With a bitter sigh, he stands and returns to the counter, grimacing at the implication that he once again missed his soul match. Who could it have been? No matter how hard he tries to focus on that night, his mind flits away from the hours on the dance floor, hidden beneath the interactions between his medication and alcohol. His head is throbbing.

He distracts himself a little bit with some customers, barely managing a smile as he greets them. Another migraine, great; the shop owner, Tanuma, is in the back room, and his coworker has left him to handle the counter alone, else he would go get his painkillers, so Shouyou forces himself not to move too much. The tick of the fan bothers him, as does the laughter of the two patrons shopping. He grits his teeth.

After he sells some wares without irritating any of his customers, he leans against the back wall with a sigh, covering his eyes to ward off the glow of the electric light over the countertop. He hates the migraines the most; they completely debilitate him, to the point that he can’t even get out of bed some days. Fortunately his shift doesn’t last much longer.

Once, when Shouyou was a child, he walked in on his parents when his mother was sick. He doesn’t remember what ailed her, but she had been sitting alone in the kitchen, head bowed over her hands, her shoulders shaking with small sobs from the pain. Shouyou hadn’t seen her all day; he and his little sister had been forbidden from bothering her so that she could rest. Upon seeing his mother, Shouyou had paused in the doorway, because she looked so small and frail, pallid with sickness that Shouyou hadn’t understood at the time.

Then his father had joined his mother at the table, coming to stand behind her. He had woven his fingers through her hair and combed it back, and Shouyou had watched silently from the shadowed doorway, as each gentle touch relaxed the tension in his mother, until she was leaning back into his father and smiling, the pain forgotten. _My singer,_ she had whispered to him, and his answering smile had been full of love.

For a moment, he had wished that someone’s touch gave him the same comfort; how many times had his parents reached for each other, thoughtlessly seeking their singer? He cannot forget how his mother reached up and touched her fingers to his father’s forehead -- to hear his song better, so Shouyou later understood.

Would his soulmate give him the same relief? Could he be the same strength to his match? Shouyou just doesn’t know -- and maybe they aren’t meant to be together, if they keep meeting and missing each other. 

Instead of reimagining that awkward night where he made himself so sick he ended up in bed for two days afterward, Shouyou thinks back to almost two years ago, when he danced a cold night in February away, never roaming too far from the stage where a tall man wove beautiful music into his soul.

Suddenly, the realization sweeps through him like a gust of wind, clearing everything away, and Shouyou understands.

"Tsukishima," he breathes, shock overtaking him. How could he be so blind? How could he be so _stupid_ not to realize? It’s so obvious now -- who else would he have met at that contest? And his reactions to Tsukishima last week...

Why Tsukishima Kei? How does that arrogant man complete him? What makes his soul sing to Shouyou so beautifully, so gently, so unlike the man he met at Club Suga’s? A song in a dance club -- a lustful gaze in a bar? A few words exchanged over drinks? And Tobio --

Tobio is going to kill him.

How could Shouyou do this to his friend? Tobio has been his steadfast partner for years. He pushed Shouyou to keep living when he wanted to give up, terrified of the song that even now completes a void in his mind he never wanted filled. Now Shouyou hears the song of the man Tobio has proclaimed to be his rival.

He can’t breathe. The song -- Tsukishima’s song -- drowns out all other sounds, and he has no idea what to do about it. He has no idea where Tsukishima lives, or how to reach him, or what even to say to him. What do soulmates even do with each other? He can’t imagine a relationship with him, let alone falling in love like all the movies and books say to do. He can’t imagine reaching for Tsukishima’s hand, like his parents did time after time. He couldn’t possibly do anything like that, not with Tobio fighting Tsukishima for a spot in one of the most popular clubs in Tokyo. He knows how much this job means to Tobio.

But the chance to be near his match, even if for a moment...

As if sensing the thought, the song shifts, echoing with worry -- Tsukishima’s worry, and for _him_ , Shouyou realizes. He straightens slowly, wincing to feel his back ache after being hunched over, struggling to breathe against the onslaught of realization.

Tsukishima can hear him, too.

He forces himself to take a breath, then another, pushing through the pounding pain in his head. He didn’t mean to worry Tsukishima. He hates these panic attacks, because they overwhelm him so easily, and they’re one of the main reasons he has been unable to keep a job. He breathes again, forcing the air past the knot in his throat, and wipes at his watering eyes.

He takes another deep breath, a little sheepish at how far his panic attack pushed him. Tobio has wanted him to meet his soul match for ages, because he wants Shouyou to be happy. Kenma will be happy, too, and he might even have advice on how to handle the strange situation. If he only talks to Tobio, hopefully he can find some sort of middle ground. Even if Tobio hates Tsukishima, maybe he will accept him, for Shouyou’s sake.

Shouyou promised himself he would be honest with Tobio. He isn’t going to stop that now.

As for Tsukishima himself...

Whether Tsukishima realizes who he is or not, Shouyou will have to speak with him. He doesn’t want his soul to fade. They could start by getting to know each other. Maybe even become friends. Shouyou doesn’t expect more; he doesn’t believe in storybook songs becoming great romances, like in all the books and movies. Whatever he can have with Tsukishima, he knows that it will take a great deal of effort and patience, and all he can hope for is that they make it work somehow. The alternative is fading -- and he already knows how that feels. Anything is better than that -- and maybe, just maybe, it will all work out.

Even if, in some dark corner of his mind, he still fears having a soul mate -- because what if Tsukishima rejects him?

His knees buckle. What if Tsukishima doesn’t want him? Tsukishima hadn’t recognized him, either -- or had he? Maybe that’s why he keeps fading. Maybe he’s already been rejected.

The panic wells up in his head. The pain worsens, and Shouyou’s vision spins before it goes black.

~

Tadashi’s tea arrangement has always been neat, if sometimes a little haphazard, much like Tadashi himself. Today Kei’s teacup is covered in small black birds marching around the brown glaze at the bottom, and he observes the smallest of the birds with a raised eyebrow, bemused that something so small could end up on the highest branch painted onto the stoneware.

"Hitoka-chan picked it out," Tadashi explains unapologetically, arranging the teapot next to the little yellow plates of cake. Strawberry, of course, because he knows Kei like the back of his hand. He takes the chair across from Kei and picks up his cup, generously painted with brightly colored stars. Neither matches the teapot.

"I didn’t say anything," Kei mutters, cautiously slicing his fork into the cake to test its durability. Hardly a crumb escapes, and Kei scoops up a bite to taste, satisfied.

"You were judging," Tadashi observes pointedly.

Kei doesn’t bother trying to look innocent, instead letting his tone of voice speak for him. "I would never." The cake is moist and sweet, the mousse creamy and smooth, and the strawberries tart and succulent. He really needs to find out where Tadashi purchases these cakes, because the patisseries near his apartment complex just do not compare.

Tadashi hides a smile behind his teacup. "Of course not. Do you like the cake? I asked for extra strawberries."

"It suffices. This time."

"Good! I’m glad you’re enjoying it. Did I tell you? Hitoka-chan is thinking of asking a planner instead of letting her mother handle everything. She’s so anxious about it lately, with her mother calling her every night with ideas, and…"

Kei listens to Tadashi ramble about his upcoming nuptials, content. Yachi Hitoka is a sweet girl who makes Tadashi light up every time she enters the room, and Kei is happy for them. Their storybook song makes even the most aloof of hearts melt at least a little, especially when Tadashi and Hitoka both insist that it isn’t storybook at all.

Sitting in Tadashi’s kitchen, possibly the safest place in the entire world, the last emotion Kei ever expects to feel is mind-numbing shock that grips him tightly and holds him captive for several minutes. One moment Tadashi is telling him about Hitoka’s frustration with the _kimono_ maker, and the next, Kei is on his knees, grabbing the cloth over his heart, which is pounding hard enough to rattle his breaths, eyes wide as he struggles to gasp for air.

After a few moments, he can hear Tadashi calling his name, a hand clutching his arm like an iron claw. He grabs at Tadashi’s fingers and holds on tightly, but the touch does nothing for him; he craves instead the hand of his match, whose panic is enough to force Kei to stagger to his feet, half a step toward the door before the thought even forms that his match is in trouble.

Tadashi stops him, pushing him into a chair with power that Kei never expects from his wiry body. "Tsukki, calm down. What’s wrong? Talk to me." His firm voice, which Kei has known for half his life, grounds him enough that he can take a deep, shuddering breath. The shock is just an echo. He is not in danger.

He worries that his soul match is, though.

After a moment, the shock shifts to anxiety, which is a little easier to digest. Tadashi’s grip tightens on his arm, hard enough to hurt, and Kei pulls on it a little, sighing when Tadashi immediately relaxes his hold.

"I’m okay," he says first to calm the panic that makes Tadashi’s freckles stand out. "It was him. My match. Something surprised him, and he..." As he says the words, the fear mellows out a little more, now tinged with sheepish apology. "He’s… sorry? For worrying me?"

Tadashi has a strange expression on his face. "You’re getting feedback from your song? I thought you couldn’t sense emotions."

Kei shakes his head. He glances at the door without thinking, briefly entertaining the thought of leaving to look for his match, but already his match’s fear has faded to its usual quiet thrum, the strong emotions gone. Kei can sense nothing, now, and it leaves him unsettled. The song sounds too quiet now. 

He takes a deep breath and sinks down onto his chair, wondering if his match is alright. "I usually can’t, no. I’m mostly unable to, because of my Trennor’s, but that was..."

Tadashi pulls a chair to Kei’s side, sitting down, unwilling to move further away. "I thought they said that those exercises would help."

Kei shrugs a little, picking up his tea with trembling fingers. "They do, to an extent, but... my doctor said that to experience anything strong, I would have to meet my match. Touch will help resolve most of my issues... but..."

Tadashi remains silent for a long moment. "I can sense Hitoka-chan the strongest when we’re holding hands. And I usually get feedback when something scares her while she’s away. She always texts me afterwards, to let me know everything’s okay, and I can feel it most of the time, too, based on her reactions. Tsukki... do you want to go out and look for him? You’re staring at the door."

Kei jerks his gaze away from the door, frowning. "I doubt I could find him, in all that mess. I think he’s alright. Just... surprised by something." He drains the rest of his tea and reaches for the pot, and Tadashi picks it up for him, pouring him another cup. The worry on his face has been replaced by a contemplative expression that draws Kei’s attention. He raises an eyebrow and waits.

"You said your song has been louder?" Tadashi asks after a few moments. At Kei’s nod, he lets out a considering noise, rubbing his thumb over his chin. "And your doctor said you would have to meet him again, to feel something strong. Do you think... maybe you did meet him again? And just didn’t realize it?"

Kei stares at him, unable to process his words for a moment. His mind flashes back to the previous Thursday, when he left Suga’s to head home and realized that he did not need the silencing headphones to hear his soul song. "Perhaps... at Suga’s? It’s been louder ever since that night, but I didn’t realize... but who was it?"

Tadashi leans forward, on the edge of his seat, his hand grasping Kei’s wrist. "Was there anyone you were drawn to? Anyone you recognized? Anyone you hadn’t seen in a long time?"

Kei turns his head toward the door again. "The only person I can think of is Kageyama Tobio. I knew him when we were children, though."

"But," Tadashi points out, "sometimes soul songs manifest later, even if you’ve known the person for a while." Kei glances at him, but Tadashi’s mien does not change. He knows why Tadashi had researched this topic. Tadashi smiles slightly, a little sadly, and Kei sighs. "It happens pretty rarely, so maybe it is him. Tsukki, you should meet him just to make sure. If he’s your soulmate, then you have to see him. I have practice tonight with him. You should come!"

Kei grimaces. "I really hope not. We would kill each other. Do you know how annoying that guy is? But I can’t think of anybody else..." He trails off when he recalls clear eyes beneath a mop of orange hair. He shuts his mouth.

 _Hinata Shouyou._ Though Kei cannot remember meeting him before, he had still been _familiar_ , and perhaps that means that Hinata _is_ his soul match. Or... it could be Kageyama, or perhaps neither of them. There is only one way to find out, though.

"What time is your practice?"

~

"Oi, dumbass, wake up. You can’t sleep all day, and I’m leaving for practice soon."

The sound that wheezes out of Shouyou’s throat would put an elephant to shame. He might hear Tobio scoff; his brain is far too groggy to comprehend anything more than the haze that weighs him down. Even his song is fuzzy, and everything _hurts._

Gentle hands that belie their owner’s moody exasperation peel the covers away from him and help him up, settling him against thick pillows while Shouyou adjusts to waking. The room is blissfully dark, and Shouyou can hear rain outside. Soon, Tobio returns with two pills, and he doesn’t speak again until the glass of water is gone, too, taking it from Shouyou’s weak fingers with a small sigh.

Shouyou blinks as Tobio settles beside him, his hip bumping Shouyou’s leg. The lamp clicks on, flooding the room with gentle light, bright enough to see, but dim enough not to exacerbate his headache. Tobio, whose expressions can range from serious to wrathful, is unusually blank, his dark eyes fixed on Shouyou’s face. "You collapsed at work."

Shouyou gapes at him. He tries to form words, but his head throbs with the echo of a migraine pain, and he sinks back with a whimper. Tobio sighs, some of his usual irritability creeping into his mien. "Tanuma-san called me. He said he found you passed out on the floor, as if you had hit your head. He didn’t know you had Sadowska’s." Shouyou winces again, but this time at the realization that Tobio must have told his boss about his disorder. There goes any hope of keeping his job; nobody wants a worker with a crippled soul.

Tobio scowls at him, perhaps reading the apprehension on Shouyou’s face. "Care to explain?"

After a long staring contest with the wall, Shouyou carefully looks over at his roommate. Nope, Tobio is still there, his intense stare edging into glare territory. If Shouyou doesn’t say something soon, he’ll probably receive a temper tantrum and a rant about how much of a dumbass he is -- which, frankly, sounds far more appealing than telling Tobio that his soulmate is Tsukishima Kei.

"Oi, dumbass." Shouyou continues to stare at the wall. "Hinata." He won’t give in -- no matter how mad it makes Tobio. "Shouyou... please."

His resolve crumbles, and Shouyou slumps back into his pillows, sighing deeply. "I got a call from Watanabe-sensei during work." Tobio’s irritated grumble shutters to silence, attentive and concerned, which unnerves Shouyou all the more. "He said that my bloodwork showed I had met my soul match again, recently. And I... realized who it is. Probably. Definitely."

Tobio waits, but when Shouyou isn’t forthcoming with the identity of his soul match, he scowls again. "What do you mean, your bloodwork? Never mind, I don’t care about that. You met your match? Where? You realized who?"

Shouyou twists the blanket around his finger, tightening the cloth until it digs into his skin. "You won’t like it," he says quietly, feebly, hoping that Tobio will take the hint and not ask again.

Tobio is much too stubborn for that, though. His pride would never allow him to overlook something this important, especially when it comes to Shouyou. They had gone around in circles like this in high school, then into college, constantly pushing each other further, always noticing even the tiniest difference in each other’s mentality. If Tobio faltered, Shouyou pointed it out and pushed him forward; if Shouyou tripped and fell, Tobio dragged him up again. They know each other as well as his parents knew each other; sometimes Shouyou wishes Tobio was his singer. But they never sang to each other, to everyone’s disbelief.

In a way, Tobio is like the soulmate he would have wanted, if he had been given the choice -- if a platonic one, given they have never been together. Shouyou has never felt the slightest bit of attraction toward Tobio. They will never be each other’s singer, but Tobio understands everything Shouyou is innately, and Shouyou can discern every part of Tobio’s mood without fail. If he admits to his true match’s identity, would Tobio disappear from his life, replaced by Tsukishima? Would he have to give Tobio up, just for a chance with a stranger who might not even want him? Shouyou absolutely doesn’t want that.

He wants to be selfish and keep Tobio forever. To have someone who has always cared for him, who has always understood him, even though he cannot reach out and touch his hand to Tobio’s face to hear his song with clarity. He cannot hear Tobio’s song at all, and even though Shouyou has never been in love with his roommate, it hurts, knowing that the one thing that would give him every right to stay at Tobio’s side is the one thing he can never have.

It’s not like he wants to be _with_ Tobio. But Tobio has always meant _home_ to Shouyou; and for a long time, before he ever heard Tsukishima, he thought he could make his own soul mate, that songs didn’t matter so long as he could be happy with someone who completed him.

Instead, someone else hears his soul.

Tobio has remained silent, perhaps watching the trepidation flicker across Shouyou’s face. He reads more than he ever tells, and Shouyou drops his gaze, his jaw clenching. "You’re really not going to like it. You’re going to be so mad. I don’t even know how it happened, or why, because it doesn’t make any sense to me. I saw him _once_ and didn’t even talk to him, and somehow he sings to me? It’s ridiculous." He scowls down at his hands, even though the expression makes his head ache.

"He comes out of nowhere and ruins everything good in my life. I can’t play volleyball anymore. I can’t go to school. I can’t even keep a job, because he broke something in me and he never came back to fix it. And now I know who he is, but he’s a jerk and I don’t even know how to talk to him, or what he’s like, or how he’s going to fix anything, or even if he will fix me." He breaks off and grits his teeth, surprised that so many of his worn-out worries have tumbled out, laid bare for Tobio to pick apart.

Tobio’s hand covers his fingers a moment later, and Shouyou looks up slowly, blinking away the heat behind his eyes, and meets Tobio’s firm gaze. It grounds him. "You aren’t broken," Tobio says, clearly enunciating each syllable as if to drill them into Shouyou’s head, pausing a long moment before he continues. 

"It doesn’t matter who he is. He’s got to earn a place in your life, and he’s gonna have to deal with me. Whoever he is, he’s still your soul match. He sings to you. I couldn’t." Tobio’s expression darkens, leaving a small, dull ache in Shouyou’s chest. "I’m not going to be mad. You can tell me who he is, and we’ll deal with it, one step at a time."

Shouyou’s fingers release their death grip on the blanket, and he exhales slowly. His voice comes out very small, and he feels no taller than he was when he first realized his parents sang to each other. "Promise?"

Tobio huffs at him, but the sound is tinged with fond exasperation. "Yes, I promise. Just tell me who it is."

Shouyou opens his mouth to reply, then shrinks a little, dithering. "You really won’t be mad?"

Tobio’s expression ticks with annoyance. "No, I won’t be mad. Who is it?"

"Well..."

"Hinata, you dumbass, if you don’t tell me who it is, I’m going to call Kenma and Kuroo-san and your parents and your sister and everyone else in your phone and let _them_ deal with you --"

"It’s Tsukishima!" Shouyou says quickly, dreading even the idea of anyone else coming here right now. Not only would Kenma get that disappointed look, but he would also lecture Shouyou to the point of tears, and Tetsurou would do nothing to stop him. He can’t even bear the thought of his parents, let alone his sister. A whole crowd of people bossing him around? He’d rather just deal with Tobio.

He realizes that Tobio is absolutely silent, and looks up to see his face contorted into a strange combination of anger and disgust. Shouyou groans and throws his arm over his eyes, regretting ever mentioning this. "You’re so mad."

"I’m -- not -- _mad_." Tobio grunts the words as if each one stabs him deeply, and Shouyou snorts despite his better judgement.

"You’re _so_ mad. Don’t even lie to me."

He listens to Tobio struggle with his feelings for a few moments, the tension draining out of him. Tobio won’t leave him to deal with this alone; whatever Tsukishima becomes to him, he’ll still have his best friend. He grins in relief, turning onto his side to watch Tobio, sliding his foot out from under the sheets to push on his shoulder. 

Tobio growls at him, but considering he’s been growling and snarling at Shouyou since they were fifteen, it doesn’t scare him. "Get your foot off me. He’s been singing to you for almost two years, hasn’t he? Where did you even meet?"

Shouyou bends his knee, resting his cheek on his arm. "You remember that contest where you competed against Tsukishima? His set was right after yours, and I ended up dancing all the way through it until he was done. I don’t know why but... when I first saw him, he just -- he caught me. His music was great, but it was the way he performed, and he kept looking at me while I danced, and it’s like... he knew what I needed. I don’t know. 

"Thinking about it now, I see how obvious it was, but back then, I was just drawn to him, to his music, and he was really attractive, and it was a really good dance... and somehow, it made him sing to me. I dunno for sure if I sing to him, too, but earlier today, his song kind of reacted to me... so maybe? I don’t really know how it works," he sulks, frowning down at the sheets.

Tobio hums thoughtfully, his eyes narrowed. "Even if he is a jerk, he’s not a bad performer. He just acts like an asshole. He wasn’t bad when we were kids, but he’s always been full of himself. I don’t know how much he’s changed, or what he’s really like now. I don’t see him much at work."

The heater clicks on, as it does every day at five in the evening, and Shouyou realizes that his stomach is rather empty. He hates that he collapsed at work; he’ll have to call his boss in the morning and hope that he still has a job. The painkillers have worked wonders now, so Shouyou sits up again, pushing at Tobio until he stands and Shouyou can slide out of bed.

"I gotta meet him somehow. He works Fridays and Saturdays, doesn’t he?" he asks Tobio, who rolls his eyes but follows Shouyou out of the room.

"Nine to three, yeah. I’ll see if I can get hold of him, alright?" Shouyou beams at him, and Tobio huffs, his face flushing as he looks away. "Listen, I need to go to practice. There’s nothing in the fridge, so if you want, you can order some food. I’ll pick up something on the way home. Yaku-san takes care of himself, so you don’t have to worry about him." Shouyou takes the money Tobio pulls out of his wallet, sighing as he thinks of his own empty pockets. He _really_ hopes he still has a job tomorrow; just the thought of trying to find a new job again twists his stomach with anxiety.

Suddenly, he can’t stand the thought of food, but he nods for Tobio anyway. A cup of tea, at least, will settle his nerves, so he disappears into the kitchen, listening to Tobio root around the living room for his bags. "Tobio," he calls out after a moment.

"What?"

"Is it Friday when I’m meeting the rest of your team?"

"Yeah," Tobio says distractedly, and Shouyou smiles, a little sadly, to hear the squeak of Tobio’s sneakers as he pulls them on. If he didn’t have this disease, then he would be right there with Tobio, ready to run off to practice for hours until both of them are too exhausted to move. "Hey, dumbass, come here."

Shouyou wanders out to the front hall with his tea, halting on the step in front of Tobio, who straightens from tying his shoe. Tobio just barely has to glance upward, his mouth twitching, and Shouyou rolls his eyes, knowing full well how Tobio likes to make fun of his height. "What is it? I’ll be good. I’m just gonna watch some TV and relax."

Tobio eyes him suspiciously, as if dubious that the house will remain intact while Shouyou is home alone, and Shouyou huffs. "Do you want me to stay? Maybe I should take you to the hospital."

Shouyou groans, loud enough to make Tobio jump. "No, just get out of here. I’ll be fine. If anything happens, I’ll call Kenma, okay? I promise."

That seems to satisfy Tobio, enough that he steps back and grabs the umbrella that sits at an odd angle, ignoring Shouyou’s perfectly good yellow umbrella. Rude. "Alright, I’m going then."

"Take care," he calls, watching Tobio disappear into the heavy rain that blankets the city. For several minutes, he stands in the entryway thinking, until the cup of tea in his hand is cold.

His stomach growls, and Shouyou sighs, eyeing the list of takeout numbers by the door. He doesn’t want to spend another night alone in this house with no one to talk to except Yaku’s cat. Something about the rainy night appeals to him; a chance to be alone with his thoughts and the song in his head.

His lonely umbrella beckons him, and that decides it for Shouyou.

~

Tokyo at night has its romance that even Kei can admire. He has always loved the lights. Around him, dozens of signs greet pedestrians with bursts of color, their reflections distorted by thousands of raindrops spreading Tokyo’s palette into stretched smears across the pavement.

Kei hardly notices them tonight. Silencing headphones firmly on, he walks down the sidewalk with a plain black umbrella protecting him from the heavy rain. He hides his mouth against the soft cloth of his scarf, a frown brushing the silk. Tadashi’s practice had given him only one small ray of hope: that Kageyama is not his soul match, to his intense relief.

_Kei approached the single man standing alone outside the changing rooms, his heart beating in his chest. His song didn’t sound any different; perhaps a little melancholy, but no louder or softer than usual. Still he walked closer, until he stood in front of Kageyama, able to meet his dark eyes. Tadashi watched nervously from further down the hall, not even pretending he wasn’t spying._

_Kageyama looked at him with a raised eyebrow. Something flickered in his expression, too quick for Kei to catch, before his eyes narrowed in question._

_Kei took a deep breath. "Kageyama, I would like to let bygones be bygones between us. Suga-san knows what he’s doing, and I believe you will be an asset to our team. We might not get along, but I can get past that if you can." He held out his hand, his heart beating a bit faster as Kageyama’s dark gaze followed the movement._

_"Alright," Kageyama said after a moment, reaching out to shake Kei’s hand. Kei braced himself, but the touch did nothing for him. He felt no different._

_Kageyama was not his soulmate._

_"If you’re willing to put in the effort, I can make the effort to accept you," Kageyama continued, before his grip tightened and his voice dropped a little, almost threatening. Kei’s gaze flicked up, interested and a little bewildered. "But if you fuck up, I won’t forgive you." For a moment, Kei wondered just what he meant, and clear amber-brown eyes flickered in his mind again. He wondered what Kageyama knew, but already Kageyama had let go of him and was walking away, so he couldn't even ask._

Kageyama accepting him, though... he still does not understand it, and how irritating the man is! Never mind that Kei had not met Hinata Shouyou at the practice, either; apparently the new manager would not meet the team until Friday, and he probably wouldn’t be able to make it, considering his evening shift. 

How annoying. All Kei wants is to go home, but then, all he will have to do is more futile exercises to try and locate his soul match.

He scoffs against his scarf, but he cannot bring himself to be too angry when the song shifts a moment later, its soft, soundless tune a comfort to his sore nerves. He wonders how the song would sound at full volume, as movies and books render, or what happiness would sound like. He wonders how many emotions he will be able to hear, someday, if he can manage to meet his match.

He stops at an intersection and waits for the light to change, eyes lowered to the road as he listens to his song. If he closes his eyes for a moment, he can hear the song wavering, as if with indecision. The idea amuses him, as if his soul match is torn over something silly, such as which cake to take home for dessert.

Ah, but he really wants to meet him, his soul match. To hear the song grow louder, to feel his happiness and joy, to understand his sadness, to find out what pushes him to strive harder... to know what hurt him so much that he almost faded away.

The light changes. Kei crosses the road and turns down another street, his heart aching a little. At least he can hear the song somewhat clearly, these days, with his soul match so close. It comforts him when little else can. Even tonight, after that strange experience at Tadashi’s house, he can hear the song louder than usual.

Up ahead on the street are several stalls and restaurants, their bright signs cheerfully inviting Kei to dinner. Kei frowns a little and considers what is in his fridge: very little. He forgot to go to the market this past weekend, and as a result he has brought home takeout almost every night. He does not really want to go home right now. Perhaps he should eat at a restaurant.

With each step he takes, the song in the back of his mind grows a little louder, but lost in his thoughts, Kei does not notice. He drops his gaze to the wet pavement, studying the stretched, shining reflections of the signs. Perhaps he should choose the most interesting reflection; the rain could decide his dinner for him.

The song wavers again, as if torn between two obvious choices, while Kei meanders through a puddle of options. If only he were standing beside his soul match to offer an opinion, then perhaps they could both decide on what to do. Kei himself wouldn’t be much help, but he would prefer the possibility over having no options at all.

The song pops, as if with exasperation at Kei, and that’s when he realizes that it is louder than he has ever heard it. Kei slows to a stop in the middle of the sidewalk, staring down at the rain soaked ground, before lifting his head. In the sea of black umbrellas, he sees one bright yellow one, and beneath it, he spots a mop of orange hair.

Hinata Shouyou is standing less than twenty feet away from Kei, frowning up at a display of dishes in the window of a restaurant, the warm light shining on his face like a ray of sunshine. The realization breaks through the sea of black umbrellas and bright, colorful lights, bleeding out all the colors that had filled Kei’s world just a moment before.

Kei blinks, and the white afterimage washes away. He can only watch as Hinata turns toward him, amber eyes flicking up and widening as he spots Kei. His mouth drops open, and even from this distance, Kei can read the words he says.

_"It’s you."_


End file.
